#and at the end of it all: having to walk away. again. alone.

[invoncible]

BLUFF ✰ mark grayson & mohawk mark w/ childhood bsf! fem! reader cw. canon compliant themes (ex. distress)

SUMMARY. when mohawk mark doesn't find debbie at his childhood home, he goes after the next best thing: you. he thinks you're together in this world too, and when he realizes you're not... well, how could he possibly give up such a perfect opportunity? / wc. 10k oops

— i started this to train my writing skills but it got out of hand T-T anyways enjoy <3

You didn't even notice your phone ringing. It must've been the third time it buzzed on your kitchen counter but for the life of you, you could not look away from the news. Invincible was laying waste to all the major cities of the globe, seemingly unprovoked.

Your breath caught when the news broke to process new information, senses finally tuning into the whirring behind you. You swiped your phone, barely glancing at the caller ID before answering.

"Hel—"

"Y/N, thank goodness." Debbie gasped on the other end.

You stood rigid. You've known Debbie your whole life. You and Mark were inseparable growing up—it was a rare occurrence to hear her so unnerved. Her unease was contagious, zapping through the wireless connection and taking root in your conscience.

"Are—" You cleared your throat, clutching the phone tighter. You walked over to the window, dragging down the blinds with two fingers and peeking outside. "Are you okay? You sound—"

"Fine, I'm fine." A shaky exhale was what you were met with, along with the sounds of a car starting up. "Honey, have you seen the news? You need to stay safe." A pause followed, too long to be natural. "Do you have anywhere else to go?"

You scrunched your brows in confusion. "Um... no, I don't. But from what they're saying on the news, the Invincibles are only targeting big cities."

"Listen. If you stay there—" Debbie's line crackled as you assumed she was driving away, far away from the neighborhood and fast. “—‘ll come for you.”

“No, you don’t have to do that. I've got my car if something goes wrong.” You pulled away from your phone, glancing at the call screen when you got no response. "Hello?"

"In light of new footage, we have information that—"

The TV fizzled out next, the low drone of cable replacing rowdy chatter of the newsroom. A low-pixel message of NO SIGNAL floated around the screen, bouncing off the edges.

You stared at yourself in the black reflection, wishing it would flip on again so you weren't alone with your thoughts. The paranoia was setting in... you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Mark is—”

beeeeeep.

"Hello?" You whispered over the phone, desperate for Debbie's familiar comfort. “...Debbie? Mark is what?”

A rhythmic beeeep beep met your ears instead. You glanced at your phone once again—CALL FAILED.

"Ohhhkay." You muttered under your breath. This is fine, you soothed yourself.

The electricity in your house died out, gently setting you into darkness. With the TV signal lost and your phone disconnected, the cell towers and power grid were probably down.

This is fine. As long as you stayed inside, you'd be fine.

You pulled down the blinds once more, letting a shred of the sunset glow into your home. Your gaze travelled to Mark's house; across the street, a couple houses down. So easily accessible yet so distant at the same time.

You and Mark were attached at the hip for seventeen years—your entire lives. Separation should have felt strange. But just two years since growing apart, his absence almost felt... normal.

Almost like he was never there to begin with.

You went off to university. You assumed he did, too, but got more reliable intel when you connected with William. He shared that they both got into Upstate, as well as his girlfriend, Amber.

Girlfriend?

You remember the pause you took to process that information—the moment you realized he was moving forward while you remained where he left you. Facing the reality that you were no longer a part of his life.

"Stop fidgeting," You whispered with a little chuckle. "It's high school, not the end of the world."

"High school is where things start to happen." Mark whined as he pulled down the hem of his sweater. "Grades matter, who you hang out with matters, girls matter."

"Uh-huh."

"You think I would make a good jock?"

"You've got the look for it."

"Dumb?"

"Yes."

Mark rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips as you both walked up the steps to the next phase of your life. "That's not very nice."

"You can be anything you want, Mark." You groaned, deciding to be encouraging. "Literally. You're good at everything. You'll fit in wherever you want to."

"Okay. Too nice." He huffed and bumped into your side. "But thanks. I just..."

Your brows furrowed in concern when his head dipped, distress sneaking its way through his cheerful disposition.

"Stuff's supposed to happen this year. Big stuff." He was mumbling, unfocused like he regretted taking the conversation this direction to begin with. "I don't want to mess this up."

You wanted to tell him high school wasn't that deep. There were complete losers that all turned out just fine. Something about his expression, though... it was heavy.

You weren't sure what he was talking about, but you knew what he needed. You always did. "Whatever stuff you're talking about... it's gonna work out. You'll take it one step at a time just like you always have, and you have your parents at your side.... William, me."

He offered you a little smile. "We'll do this together?" He held out his pinky finger.

You giggle and interlocked yours with his. "Together."

He broke that promise pretty quickly. Different classes were the first step apart. From there, it only got harder to see each other.

Family stuff was Mark's favorite excuse—vaguely explaining family stuff had become 90% of your conversations. You figured he didn't want to tell you whatever he was really going through, which was fine. It hurt, but it was fine.

Before you knew it, you stopped talking altogether. You didn't think much of it at first—you were approaching adulthood, obviously you were going to get busy. You just thought you'd get busy together. You didn't even know what he was up to these days.

You drew back from the blinds with a long sigh, hoping that Debbie and Mark were safe. Wherever they were.

You trudged down into the basement to turn the generator on. The wooden stairs of the unfinished space crrrrrreaked under your feet. You waved away the dust, pounding your chest to cough the particles that snuck their way into your airway.

It was cooler down here, much darker without the ambient lighting of the sunset above. With your trusty phone flashlight, you managed to maneuver your way through the storage buckets and old boxes to the backup generator.

You grunted trying to pull the lever down. "Shit..." you cursed in disgust, feeling the grime and dust underneath your palm. i want electricity i want electricity, you repeated over and over to block out the icky sensation.

"Need some help?"

"Ah—!" you shrieked, spinning around in a panic. Your flashlight illuminated the figure in front of you, shadowed by the soft light of open door upstairs. "What—" who—?!

"Damn. Relax."

Vaulting over your initial dread, you grabbed something—a wrench or a hammer, you didn’t know, you didn't care—and swung it with all your might.

They caught it in their fist. Your breath shriveled up in your throat at how stiff they were, intercepting your attack without even budging. Their fingers curled tight around the tool and yanked you close.

"tsk, tsk," Their low voice chuckled. "Thought you'd be happy to see me, pretty girl."

You shone your light into the intruder's face, the tension in your body dissipating when you recognized—

"...Mark?" You squinted in the darkness, the flashlight just barely illuminating his face in a ghastly glow. "Wha... what are you doing here?" You huffed.

Blood was pumping through your system, telling you to get ready to run. Your nerves wouldn't calm their tingle even though you realized it was just Mark. Cuz it was Mark, right?

"Checking on you."

"Where's your mom?"

"Smart enough to leave home."

"Oh, yeah. She called. I thought you'd be with her..." You trailed off, frowning when you heard him laughing. "What?"

"Nothing." He hummed. "You're just so..."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"Okay..." You gave him a weird look. Then your brain caught up to you: Pretty girl? "Aren't you dating Amber?"

He took a moment to think, tossing the wrench aside and grabbing your wrist in his hand instead. "Am I?"

You pursed your lips, eyes narrowing. "I'm... asking you?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

"What—" You exhaled, brows knitted in confusion. You tried to pull away but he held firm; for every step back, he followed. "Mark, wait—"

Your phone clattered to the ground, the ray of light spinning chaotically through the darkness before it fell on its back.

"I missed you." He murmured lowly, almost reverent in the way he boxed you against the cold generator. "Shhh..." He calmed your trembling frame with his strong arms (when'd he get so strong?) wrapped around your shoulders.

He burrowed his nose in your hair. "It's me, bunny. Why're you so scared?"

This isn't Mark. Your heart pounded at your chest, eyes frozen and piercing into the darkness over his shoulder—Wake up, dumbass. This isn't Mark.

When your tremors refused to quiet, he pulled back with what you hoped was concern. That's when you saw his hair...

"Is that..." You whispered. The soft light from the main floor was fading, but reflected off the shiny sides of Mark's head. "Are you bald?"

What was he doing in the two years since you saw each other?

"Aw..." He laughed heartily, leaning further towards you and flattening his palms over the top of the generator. "Not quite."

He leaned to your side, breath fanning over the shell of your ear as he continued to snicker to himself softly. He grabbed the lever of the generator and shoved it down.

Your body jostled into his firm chest as it sprung to life. It went clank-clank-clank-clank, pumping electricity back into your home. You heard the melodic trills from upstairs as devices booted up again.

The light in the basement flipped back on. It didn't reach you. Mark towered over you and kept you in shadow. But you could see him—rather, who he wasn't.

"What?" Mohawk Mark grinned down at you, sadistic and teasing. "Not who you were expecting?"

No, not who you were expecting. He looked like Mark, sounded like Mark, felt like Mark... But your Mark had a kind face.

"You're not..."

"Nope."

You felt the heat drain from your body as you simply stared up at him, wide-eyed. Run. Where? Why the fuck was he dressed like ... Invincible...

A connection snapped together in your head, synapses clicking together like legos. Oh. Invincible. Everything made sense now, and you felt a little stupid for not figuring it out sooner.

And now one of those murderous variants you saw on the news was in your home.

"You're really out of it, huh?" He frowned, waving a gloved hand in front of your face. He sighed and looked away, "I thought you'd—"

You had the itch to burst into a sprint. You snatched your phone off the floor and ducked under his arm, skipping stairs to the main floor. Car. Keys? Where the fuck did you put them?

A shuddered whimper tumbled off your lips. You felt helpless, mind racing with too many things at once to pick one task and get out of there. You snatched your purse from the sofa, rifling through it to make sure your keys were inside before going outside.

"Come on, come on," You whispered, out of breath.

"Don't run from me, Y/N," Mohawk Mark sang teasingly, drawing out the last syllable of your name. "Hey, I'm just playing with you."

You screamed anyway, the sound harsh and high-pitched. He pouted, hand firmly around your arm to prevent you from breaking away.

"C'mon, baby. You're hurting my feelings. We're just having fun, yeah? A little roleplay?"

First off, you wished he'd stop calling you things like that. It felt wrong, but... good. With every pet name, he let butterflies loose in your tummy. Your heart pulsed, sending heat to your cheeks. Your brain reminded you, this isn't Mark... this isn't Mark... this isn't the real Mark...

Second, what kinda freaky ass fuck did he turn into?

You rolled out of his grip, barely making it a step away before his arm circled around your stomach, pulling you back into his chest.

"Get the fuck off me—" You squirmed uselessly, your phone and bag tumbling onto the floor. You yelped when he threw you over his shoulder, patting the small of your back affectionately as if securing cargo. "Mark!"

He just laughed, taking off through the door at a abnormal speed. Your nose smushed into his back under the acceleration, stomach somersaulted twenty times over as you soared up into the clouds.

He stopped in the air. With a hoarse shriek you clung to him as if he was your lifeline. He was, in this moment, despite everything. Your legs immediately latched around his waist, and he supported you with hands under your thighs.

"Oh, come on, now." He chuckled with a shake of his head. He easily held you and brought a hand to wipe your cheeks. "I'm just playing around. If I'd known you were this sensitive, I would've taken it a little bit easier on you..."

You hadn't even realized you started crying.

He stared at you, eyes trailing over your face. He laughed softly to himself. "Who am I kidding. No, I wouldn't have. You know how cute you are when you cry?"

You glared at him but his grin only grew wider. "What? M'not gonna hurt you! Haven't I shown you that?"

You stared at him incredulously, finally finding your voice and blowing up at him. Your fists curled, pounding at his chest and jabbing a finger in his face. "You broke into my home and have me hanging 100ft in the air?!"

"So? I'm not dropping you, am I?" You felt his fingers tap against your thigh.

"That—" Your cheeks burned. but from being embarrassed or flustered, you couldn't quite place.

"This world's Mark is the biggest piece of shit for leaving girlfriend all alone."

You blinked, "Girlfriend?"

"Yeah, you're..." Mark's head tilted, sharp eyes acutely aware of your confusion. "Ohhh. Don't tell me that fucker didn't lock you down."

You didn't even know what to say. Things were being thrown at you left and right and you were still on the fact that Mark was Invincible. Your mind rifled through all the headlines that had his name... all that pain, death, and destruction... and how you weren't there for him.

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Well. I'm a better version, anyway."

[]

The sun finally set on day 2 the war with no hope in sight. Mark just admitted Eve into the hospital—she stubbornly decided to help him with two of his variants and paid the price. Her broken leg was under construction, and she was unconscious.

Mark sighed as he closed the door behind him, looking up to see Cecil waiting for him in the hallway.

"You can't be here, kid."

Mark scowled. "The other Invincibles know about this place. They could kill her to get at me. I... can't lose another friend. I won't."

After Amber, Mark wanted to be with Eve. It was the next logical step, right? Both superheroes, went through a lot together, understood each other... But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not even under Future Eve's advice.

Not when he still held space for you in his heart.

He was an asshole for it, he knew that. He couldn't put a date to the last time you spoke and he selfishly held onto your memory. Were you pining for him like he was pining for you?

His time with Amber taught him a lot. He wasn't going to make you suffer like she did. He wasn't going to ruin the friendship he had with you just because he selfishly wanted your love.

"We're losing this, Mark." Cecil sighed, snapping Mark out of his thoughts. The bruise on his face throbbed with every word. "The world needs you."

"You got every superhero on the planet fighting for you right now." Mark shot back angrily, shutting his eyes only to see you behind his lids.

"Mark. Oliver's out there. Your mother's out there." Cecil pressed, pulling out his phone. "Which reminds me. She left a voicemail."

With his interest successfully piqued, Mark listened as his mother's panicked voice played over Cecil's device.

"I can't reach Mark—if you see him, tell him I'm at Paul's. Oliver insisted on going out there, and I let him on the condition he finds his big brother."

Mark's gaze dropped down to the floor guiltily, a war of emotions swirling inside him.

"I couldn't stop him if I tried. He was going to sneak out anyway, but..." A sharp inhale. "I'm worried. I know they're strong, I know that. But these other versions... they're nothing like Mark." Seconds of silence passed as she collected her thoughts. "Can you check on someone for me? If all these Marks grew up the same, there's a childhood friend on our street that he was never without. I tried to reach her but service went down. Please."

Cecil pulled back his phone. "I already sent agents to her home—"

Mark's head snapped up, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "What did I say about going near my family?"

"I wasn't aware she was family." Cecil raised an eyebrow, pocketing his device and pulling down his cuffs.

"They're my responsibility. She's my responsibility." Mark retorted, running a anxious hand through his hair.

"A thank you would be nice." Cecil mumbled, unperturbed by the boy's argument. "Seeing as you are currently shirking said responsibility."

"Don't—" Mark lurched forward, a threat on his tongue. Cecil flinched backwards, his hand firmly in his pocket finding his controller.

Mark pulled back, dropping his fist. "...Just shut the fuck up, Cecil." He blasted off through the halls.

Cecil watched him leave with bated breath, exhaling slowly when he got the intel that Mark was off the grounds. At least he was out there.

[]

"I killed the Guardians, yeah."

"All of them?"

"Yeah. No big deal."

You raised your eyes in surprise but the notion wasn't as gruesome as you thought it would be. Blinded by love, maybe? Or were you just happy to be talking to Mark again, regardless of the version?

Hours ago, you couldn't imagine sitting in your bedroom with the man who invaded your home. But, genuinely, what were you supposed to do? Pick a fight and lose? Worse, die? You weren't so stupid to waste the goodwill he held for you.

"What happened to me in your world?" You asked, your voice quieter now.

Mark tilted his head, exhaling through his nose. His jaw flexed, like the memory alone was an irritation.

"The resistance killed you to get at me," he muttered, his voice dark, laced with something sharp and unhinged. The crazed gleam in his eye flickered under the dim lighting, like a fire burning just beneath the surface. Then, with an almost amused sigh, he shifted his weight, offering you a small, self-satisfied smile. "Don't worry. I made them pay for it."

You didn’t bother asking how.

Mark’s arm stretched behind you, draping lazily across the back of the pillows, his fingers idly toying with the fabric of your sleeve. Every casual brush of his fingertips sent a ripple of goosebumps across your skin.

"We were a good thing, you know," he mused, voice lower now, softer. gentle. "You didn’t fight me. You didn’t run. You loved me." There was a teasing lilt in his voice that you recognized.

That’s not so different here, you swallowed the thought, masking it with a roll of your eyes. "Did you love me?"

That made him pause. His gaze flicked to yours, brows furrowing slightly, like the question had caught him off guard. Then a slow smirk tugged at his lips, amusement flashing in his expression before he let out a low chuckle.

He leaned in so close you could feel his breath ghost over your lips. "Let me show you," he murmured, voice dark and filled with intent.

The air between you tightened as his hand trailed from your sleeve, fingers dragging along the bare skin of your arm, slow and deliberate. His touch was light, teasing, like he was waiting for you to react—to pull away or lean in.

You offered him nothing but a careful stare and the slow rise and fall of your chest.

His eyes narrowed, delighting in the challenge. His nose brushed against yours, his lips lingering just shy of touching.

Pull away, your brain screamed at you, ringing every warning bell it had in the book. This isn't right.

But his other hand came up, grazing along your jaw... and his fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes... all of it felt so familiar, like something out of a dream. And it'd been so long since you saw his brown wells, you couldn't tear your gaze away.

Your daze was broken when you heard him laugh again. He adored the way you frowned in confusion, the moonlight twinkling in the reflection of your eyes.

“Aww,” he cooed, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “look at you. So easy. This world’s Mark has left you all alone, hasn’t he?”

Your chest rose and fell with uneven breaths as he tilted his head, watching you squirm.

“S'like you’ve been waiting for this," he hummed. His hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes darkened at whatever he saw.

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours—you could feel him smiling. “Since he won’t.”

Stop, stop, stop. You wanted Mark, wanted him desperately, but not like this. Not with him.

You released the breath you were holding when he paused his fixation on your lips, head turning minutely to the side as if he was hearing something.

"For fuck's sake..." Mark scoffed, a low chuckle passing through his lips. "Speak of the devil."

What?

Mohawk Mark heard the whistle of air before you did, only clueing in when it grew louder. It reached a peak when a projectile CRASHED through your window—

You scrambled backwards on your mattress as splinters flew everywhere. Mark caught you before you tumbled off the bed, shielding you from the broken glass and wood.

"What's—" You began to ask, but over Mark's shoulder you saw him—the real Mark.

You just stared at each other for a moment, though you couldn't see much past his tinted goggles. But the slow scowl growing on his lips communicated all you needed to know.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Mark—the real one—growled. "Get off her."

Mohawk Mark laughed into your shoulder, turning to face him. "Why? She's not yours, is she?"

Mark's eyes twitched behind his goggles, abandoning his inhibitions and diving at him, grabbing his variant's hair and yanking him off of you—

"Mark..." you warned, fear bubbling in your gut.

—your caution fell on deaf ears; Mark threw him up and drove him through the floor.

"Mark!" you yelled behind him, feeling the air whip past your face, following him as he crashed into the living room below. "Shit—"

Squeaking as you fought against the slope of the cavity, your feet, only clad in socks, provided the worst possible grip and you began slipping down the gap. Your breath caught in your chest as you felt yourself plummeting—

"Hey." His voice was urgent yet comforting, his arms tightening around your body in seconds, pulling you back from the edge. "I got you."

Your hand instinctively gripped his shoulder, grounding yourself as you realized you were suspended in his embrace. As he gently descended to the floor, your eyes moved quickly, scanning the outline of his goggles.

"You... I guess you know now, then." His voice was low, heavier than usual, like a weight he’d been carrying finally released.

The moment your feet met the ground, you stepped back, your heart pounding. Across the room, Mohawk Mark was sprawled on the floor, blood leaking from his nose, unconscious for now. Your gaze flicked back to your Mark, heart still racing.

"Yeah, I know." You snapped, the anger rushing through you, the frustration and confusion bubbling up.

His expression faltered, something unreadable flashing across his face before he sighed, almost too quietly, as if he were disappointed in himself.

"You’re angry," he observed, his voice tinged with regret.

"No shit, I’m angry!" Your hand shot out, slapping against his chest before it balled into a fist at your side. Every inch of you was yelling at him, every question, every unspoken feeling, everything that had been left unsaid for the past two years. "The first time I've seen you in two years and it's—it's not even you?"

"I know, I know," Mark’s hands moved to his mask, tearing it off with an impatience that only grew when it caught on his nose. He grimaced as he yanked it free, tossing it to the side. The dim light of the room revealed the exhaustion etched into his face, but even through that, you could see him—the real him, just... different. Worn down, tired.

"I can explain."

"You better fuckin start."

"Be mad at me all you want, but look at this." His arms gestured wildly around your place. "I was right to not tell you! It could've been way worse, way sooner if you knew anything about what I was really up to. Why didn't you leave when Mom called you?!"

"The phone cut off, asshole, I didn't hear everything she said, and I certainly wasn't aware that you were the one behind Invincible—"

He shook his head, dismissing the topic. He stepped into your space and held onto your arms. "Did he touch you?"

"Get off me."

"Did he touch you?" He pressed, shaking you slightly as his grip tightened around your biceps.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the urgent crack in his voice. "Yes, but I let him."

He pulled away from you as if burnt. A heavy silence hung in the air, nothing but the clattering of broken floorboards crashing down from above.

"...He's a murderer, Y/N." He whispered, eyes narrowed.

You knew that. You knew he was right. "I was... vulnerable."

"He killed people—"

"Shut up," You snapped, cutting him off. "Don't lecture me; this is a nonissue. What was I supposed to do? Hm? Want me to pick up my fists and come out swinging like you did—"

"I thought he was hurting you!"

"My hero." You rolled your eyes, the words dripping with bitter sarcasm. You knew you were being unfair, maybe a little cruel, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You were exhausted from the many near death experiences you've somehow survived in the last few hours. Strung so tight you felt like you might snap.

Every inch of you was begging to cry and let him hug you like you both so clearly wanted... but the fact that it took something this bad to get him to show up? That hurt more than anything.

Mark stared at you, his face an amalgamation of emotions, like he couldn’t decide on one.

Should he be angry at you for being difficult, for making him work for this moment when all he wanted was to explain? Should he feel pain, the sharp ache in his chest that another Mark got to hold you before he did? Or was it jealousy, searing heat into his face, that another version of himself had been the one to touch you, to be close to you before he had the chance? Maybe... maybe it was the bittersweet happiness, the relief that he was finally standing here in front of you.

He didn’t even care that you were glaring daggers at him—he missed staring into your eyes, albeit hardened and displeased, making his heart race; the way you’d furrow your brow when you were frustrated, the way your voice would call out to him.

Mark’s hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach out, but he held himself back. Would you even allow it? The distance between you was far more than physical. He had a thousand things to say but in that moment, words felt hollow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he finally muttered, his voice quieter, more vulnerable than he intended.

Childish.

You scoffed lightly, rolling your eyes again. "All that time and that's all you have to—"

Before you could finish, your world spun. The floor tilted beneath you as Mohawk Mark launched himself into you, sweeping you off your feet and through the door.

[]

"Y/N!" Mark yelled after you, breathing heavy in a panic. "No, no, no, no—" He launched himself from your home, bursting through the roof after you.

You barely heard him over the rushing wind. You clawed at Mohawk Mark's back, the height siphoning the air from your lungs. "Stop..." You ordered weakly.

"Changed your mind already?" He laughed, cradling you in his arms. Your head lolled against his chest. "Don't tell me you buy his bullshit."

"Mm..." The sharp ascent from ground level to the clouds made your head spin, vision darkening as you grew dizzier.

"You're fucking dead!" Your Mark came out of nowhere, shooting up beside Mohawk Mark and bashing his nose in. With a pained groan, he dropped you. "Shit—"

"Look what you made me do, dipshit!" Mohawk Mark snarled, shoving Invincible away and bolting after you.

"Don't—" Mark growled in frustration, racing against time. He watched as your limp body dropped helplessly against gravity.

It never changed. Whether he told you or not, you would end up in these perilous situations regardless. He cursed under his breath, catching Mohawk Mark's ankle and catapulting him into the night sky before pushing forward.

He collected you in his arms before it was too late, wasting no time as he shifted his direction and carried you off to GDA's hospital.

[]

The steady beep... beep... beep of your heart monitor was the first thing you tuned into upon waking up.

"Oh, good."

Your eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting towards Mark. He was bent over your cot, his hand on your forehead while staring down at you with stars in his eyes.

"You just passed out. Nothing serious, but I wanted to make sure." He mumbled, pulling back.

Your eyes drifted back to the ceiling, unfocused and hollow. There was too much—too much to process, too much to feel, too much weighing down on your chest all at once. It pressed against your ribs, thick and suffocating, a tidal wave crashing over you before you could even take a breath. Every nerve in your body screamed with something—fear, exhaustion, embarrassment, confusion—but it all blended together into one overwhelming, crushing force. Your mind was shutting down for its own sake.

The sounds around you dulled into distant echoes, the weight of your own limbs barely registering. Your chest rose and fell, but it felt mechanical.

"Y/N?" Mark whispered, brows furrowing in concern. "Hey." he poked your shoulder.

You shook your head, turning away from him as tears pooled in your eyes. God, you felt so embarrassed.

Mark frowned when you shifted away from him, any comfort he planned to offer dying in his throat. "I'm... sorry." was all he could say.

Nothing.

His leg bounced nervously, chewing at his lip as he fought with his own emotions. "I want to kill him for putting hands on you."

Your brows tightened. Not what you wanted to hear either.

He sighed heavily, running his hands through his hair. "M'sorry for blowing up at you. It's not your fault—"

"It is." You sniffled. "I missed you... so much, that I pretended that he was you..." you choked on the words, turning your back to him and burying your face into the pillow. "How pathetic is that?"

Mark's heart squeezed, kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed next to you. "Stop. Not your fault." He reiterated.

You scoffed and shook your head, laughing wryly. He frowned, and pulled you to face him. He saw your tears and felt his own pile up behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "I told my.... uh, last relationship that I was Invincible. It didn't end well for her, and I didn't want to put you in that same position. Always unsure, always in danger, always waiting..."

"I'm not her, Mark." You muttered.

"I know." He pursed his lips. "I was gone for months at a time—"

"I waited two years for you, didn't I?" You pushed away from him and sunk back into the cot. "You didn't even give me a chance."

Childish. That’s how you sounded. Because in the end, that’s all you two were—two kids who once grew up side by side finding each other once more, with all the petulant hurt coming through the surface.

A beat of silence passed between you, with nothing but your heart monitor to keep the time.

"You said he touched you." He started.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "...don't bring that up."

"No, I want to know." He shifted his weight, hovering over you. His face was painted with something foreign, green-eyed and greedy. "Show me."

Heat blossomed on your face as you lay in his shadow. "Mark..." You laughed nervously. "It was barely anything."

"You missed me so much you had to settle for that." Mark didn't look away from you for a second. "I want to give you the real thing."

You screwed your face up. Again, the thought passed through your mind: you wanted Mark, but not like this. "I don't want this to be a pity thing."

"No," Mark shook his head firmly. "not pity. Everything I feel for you has been there since... since I can remember. And it fucking boils my blood that a different version of me got to you before I had the balls to do it myself. Please," he whispered. "I need this."

"Need what?"

"You." He answered, like the answer was obvious. To him, it was. "I'm done waiting around."

You blinked at him before a soft smile spread across your face. "Me too."

Mark's lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that made your heart ache. He cupped your face in his hands, and you melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

You let out a soft sigh when his lips parted slightly, allowing you both to breathe. You pressed forward, kissing him harder, feeling the intensity of everything that had been building between you over the years—years of longing, of waiting, of wanting something more.

Mark responded with equal hunger, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you closer. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart pounding against yours.

Where had he touched you? Mark didn't care anymore. By the time he was done with you, you'd know his touch and his alone, and he'd know every inch of you like the back of his hand. He wasn't leaving this room without it. He was allowing himself to be selfish for once; for you, it was worth it.

He sat back on his haunches, tugging his gloves off by his teeth before diving back into you, sliding his bare fingers underneath your shirt, sighing into your mouth as he squeezed your skin in his palm.

"You'll never need anyone ever again," He nosed your cheek, trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck. "Promise."

This time, you believed him.

— wayyy too self indulgent lmk if it was boring at places :)

© invoncible

[reignpage]

When the Night Changes

Synopsis: in which you've been following your coworker around, trying to wriggle your way into his good graces, only to realise maybe there was never any room to begin with Warnings: a little angsty at the beginning but happy ending, office romance, rom-com, the beginning of a love story vibes -- maybe office sex next?👀, not proofread Word Count: 2.4k

Your coworker, Nanami, is a tough nut to crack. Since entering the company, you’ve stuck by him like dirt on a shoe — which is certainly how he thinks of you, you’re sure. In many ways, you’ve become an integral part of his life. 

Being the first thing he sees in the morning when he steps foot in the office is a duty you take very seriously. In fact, sometimes you time everything perfectly to run into him just as he’s entering the lobby. Then, with a wide smile, you greet him.

“Good morning, Nanami. How are you?”

His answer is always the same, of course: “Morning. I’m well.”

He doesn’t ask about you. He never really does. But that doesn’t matter because he doesn’t interrupt when you go on your spiel about how you slept, what you had for breakfast, how the traffic was and so on and so forth. 

During the day, you’ll sporadically stop by his office, popping your head in. You don’t have anything important to say, usually, but you always find something to say, nonetheless. 

“Heya, Nanami. I was looking out of the window and into the street earlier. I saw the cutest dogs ever. They were sniffing each other’s butts. I think they’ll be great friends. Do you ever want dogs?”

The man doesn’t look up from his computer. Instead, he continues to type, a perpetual frown pulling his brows and lips down as he works on whatever he’s working on. Still, he responds, “No.”

“Why?” You ponder. “Don’t like dogs? Prefer cats? Or you don’t like pets at all?”

“I can’t take care of an animal; I’m much too busy.”

That’s a huge lore drop if you’ve ever heard one. You beam. He’s warming up to you and it only took months! You leave him to it with a bigger smile on your face that you came with. 

When lunchtime comes around, you sit by him in the canteen. Nanami sits in the corner, by the window, alone. Well, alone with you but he doesn’t complain. So, you do your thing. 

“Oh, look! We chose the same main. We must be meant to be, right?”

No reply. 

“You drink coffee with your lunch? All I ever see you drink is coffee. Unless it’s at an after-work dinner, in which case you can drink anyone under the table. That’s really impressive!”

That piques his interest. Gaze lifting to meet yours, he clarifies, “You think alcoholism is impressive?”

“Uh…”

“Please, be more conscious of what you say.” Nanami places his utensils together, they clink in a way that pierces through you. Flinching, you’re left silenced when he gets up and leaves with no further word to you. 

Stuck in your head, you replay that conversation again and again an hour or two later. You hadn’t meant to insult him. Maybe you were a little thoughtless with your words, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed his business after work is any of yours. In either case, you should apologise. 

At the end of the day, you follow him out, pushing past the other people to try and reach him before he walks the other way to you. When you emerge through the crowd, you see him. 

Him and a woman. 

She’s gorgeous. With a slight smirk on her lips, she holds a cigarette between her fingers as she converses with Nanami. You understand now. Of course he doesn’t give you the time of day; he’s got a beautiful girlfriend who’s nothing like you. 

The next morning, you aren’t there to greet him with a blinding smile as soon as he steps foot into the workplace. His eyes find you, behind your desk, typing away with your head down. He frowns. 

Sometime later, he sees a glimpse of you by his door. He braces himself for your mindless chattering, but when you simply walk past his office, he hears an irritating noise echo in his corner — he’s fiddling with a pen, tapping the head against the wood of his desk in rapid succession. Nanami didn’t know he had such a habit. 

At lunch, you don’t sit by him. In fact, he doesn’t see you at all. That’s how the rest of the week passes. He doesn’t know why it bothers him so. Though he never resented your presence, he also never thought much of it. You’re young and new; you just wanted a stable figure around. Nanami is not that. 

In the hallway, you pass him by with a respectful bow, but your eyes don’t meet his even as he purposefully slows down to catch them. An odd ache thuds thuds thuds in his chest. 

Why does he care so much?

Could it be he’s actually grown to care? 

Had he really let his guard down so much that you, a non-sorcerer, could find its way into his world?

He wonders, then, what to do with this predicament. On one hand, he could always ignore this odd sensation in his stomach, somewhat akin to moths zipping around, and on the other, he could try and see where this will go. But is he too late?

You were so lovely to be around and now you’re avoiding him like the plague. Had he said something? Did he offend you?

Nanami’s thoughts are filled with all sorts of questions that evening. When he wakes up the next day, there are bags under his eyes, much deeper and darker than usual. There’s nothing he could do about them, though, so he dresses himself the way he does all the time — under layers, socks, pressed pants, ironed shirt, tie, a blazer and then his shoes. 

One thing he does do differently, however, is hold two cups of coffee in his hands when he enters the lobby. He sees you waiting for the elevator. Then, widening his strides, he reaches you just as the telltale ping resounds. 

“Good morning, Y/n. How are you?”

Surprised by his gravelly voice, you stammer, “I’m well. Ahem, h-how are you?”

He smiles. “I’m great. Coffee?”

You take the cup from him with suspicion lacing every twitch of an expression in your face. The man can’t help but find it adorable — what an odd thought. He’s never found a woman adorable before. Objectively good-looking, sure, in his lowest times. But usually, he can only make remarks regarding their work ethic. How fascinating. 

Parting ways, you both look back at the same, him with a welcoming nod and you with shock. This is turning out to be more fun than he thought; you are so animated. 

Later, he taps his pen against his chin, squinting at the window as he observes the street below. He’s trying to find something interesting. There are no dogs sniffing each other’s behinds, no ice cream van bringing joy on a warm day (as you mentioned to him last week), and there are no rainbows to take pictures of and show to everyone in the office. 

Of course, Nanami’s aware that it’s likely all to do with perspective — he’s been finding Tokyo rather monotonous these days. But that isn’t something he can change overnight. So, he resorts to a different tactic. 

“Hello, Y/n. Are you busy?”

Clanking, thudding and stuttering fill up your office; so startled by his sudden appearance in your space, you’ve jolted and rocked your entire desk around, knocking paperweights about the place. Clearly frazzled then, your tone comes out much harsher than you’d intended, he can tell. “What do you wan—I mean, sorry. Hi, Nanami. What can I do for you”

“Nothing. I was simply stretching my legs and looking for a sight to brighten my day.”

“Uhh…did you find one? I can help you look.”

He shakes his head and then, with a final sweep of your face, he nods and leaves. 

It’s obvious he’s the one to blame for the cautious look on your face which remains all the way until lunchtime when he stops by your office, curious to know where you’ve been eating your food. 

Just about to take your first bite, by the looks of it, you make a noise of embarrassment and frustration. “Nanami, why are you here?”

“I’d like to have lunch with you. Please join me in the canteen; I hadn’t prepared a lunchbox.”

“No. Shoo.”

He raises a brow. “Shoo?”

“Yes, go. I don’t know if you’re sick or you’ve been probed, but you’re acting weird today. Please, enjoy your lunch without me.”

Nanami takes a seat in front of you, crossing his legs and leaning back. The bastard’s making himself comfortable. Patiently, he responds, “To enjoy my lunch, you’d have to be with me. I rather like your stories.”

“My stories? I thought you hated them.”

“Why ever would you think that?”

Your arms flail in disbelief. “Hello? You never respond. You just grunt in that man-ish way.”

“I do?”

“Yes!”

Both of you are aware this is the longest conversation you’ve ever shared. It’s almost comical how naturally the sentences flow out between you when before you were lucky if he even responded to a question regarding anything but work. 

“Well, I do apologise for giving you that impression. I love hearing your stories. Especially the ongoing one regarding your aunt and her disloyal partner.”

You beam. “Oh my God! Speaking of, you will not believe what happened last— Hey! Don’t distract me. You know what you’re doing.”

“I do?”

Groaning, you smack your head against the desk. Nanami winces. In a flash, he’s taken hold of your face, tilting your chin back to inspect your forehead. There’s no mark. Thank goodness. 

“Please be careful. That sounded like it hurt.”

You frown and then fall limp in his grasp. Nanami’s making it so difficult for you to keep your distance. You wanted to squash your crush and be respectful of his relationship but then he goes and caresses your cheek with his thumb like you’re precious. To him. Muttering, you complain, “You shouldn’t do that. What would your girlfriend think?”

A pause so thick it’d have to be cut with a chainsaw.

And a silence so loud it’s deafening. 

He blinks and then laughs. It’s a nice sound; he really ought to laugh more.

“Girlfriend? I don’t have a girlfriend, Y/n. Whoever sold you that egregious lie?”

“But…but…there was a woman. She had short hair. Very pretty. You met with her after work.”

Leaning back in his chair, he rubs a hand over a grin so unlike him it almost transforms his face into someone else’s entirely. Nanami practically looks a decade younger. Before you had always looked up to him as this wise, mature, and experienced leader. Now, he just looks like a man. A very handsome, drool-worthy man, but a man, nonetheless. 

Now, he actually looks…attainable. 

“That would be Shoko. A friend. I assure you; we do not regard each other in that capacity. Far from it.”

“Oh.”

He checks his watch. He sighs. You watch him stand up and brush invisible dust off his pants. “If you won’t have lunch with me, then please, join me for dinner tonight. I’d like very much to hear all about your aunt and her unfortunate love life…But more than that, I’d like to hear about you.”

“Why?” You hadn’t intended to blurt that out but the way you said it sounds very much like you’re judging him for taking an interest on you. 

Features softening, he lets show a moment of vulnerability. “Because life is far too short to live with regrets.”

And he disappears, leaving you positively, irrefutably gobsmacked. 

The rest of the day for you goes by much longer than usual. Over and over again, your mind replays that conversation, from how out of nowhere it was to how natural it felt. Just a week before, you would have been over the moon to have had such an experience with Nanami — and you certainly still are — but now, you’re also worried about what it all means. 

From observing him, you’ve always had the feeling that he carried more burdens than anyone else does. There was an air of mystery, of danger, and of tragedy to him. Perhaps that was what lured you in in the first place. 

Now, he wants to have dinner?

As in, a dinner date? 

But you aren’t wearing date makeup. And you would have been working all day, sweaty and tired and ugly, no?

Where is he even taking you? What’s the lighting situation? 

God, you don’t even have a pack of gum.

When the day ends, there’s a pounding in your chest and a clamminess to your hands. Extraordinarily conscious of yourself, you grimace when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the elevator mirror. Everything was wrong: your hair’s messy, your pores are huge, and your lips are chapped. 

So ridiculous is it all that you just about make a decision to hide in the bathroom when Nanami steps into view once the doors open, blocking your way out like somehow, he knew where you thoughts had ended up. 

“You weren’t, by any chance, going to leave me waiting, were you?”

“No,” you say, but the sheepish gummy smile you give him tells a different story. 

Nanami leads you out. With the sun setting, casting a warm glow about the place, you two stand there watching the city come to life with people just like you — stressed, anxious, and busy. You hear none of the noise of traffic, see none of the flash of lights obscuring the clear sky from sight, nor smell the pollution usually rife in such a populated city.

There’s a stillness in the air between you. A calm with no storm. The pounding of your heart leaves, so does the fight or flight instincts that had your nerves on edge. It feels like you’ve just taken a step inside the world of Kento. 

“You don’t have to have dinner with me. We can always return to normal. I won’t hold it against you if this sudden change is too much to come to terms with. But it’d be my pleasure if you would.”

Hesitantly —or shyly— you ask, “You want to take me out on a date?”

He meets your eyes. A small smile pulls at his lips. 

“I do.”

[sanakimohara]

Hyunjin is the type to whisper the most nastiest things in your ear IN PUBLIC then kiss your forehead and walk away!!!

[ TONGUE TIED ] - H. H.

I’m gonna have fun with this one. Read at your own risk…

He was being nice at first.

Incredibly, extremely, and suspiciously too nice.

You should have known better. Especially when he showed up at the after-party in way too good of a mood, but you chalked all his soft smiles and pleasant compliments up as he rode the high of attending another spectacular Versace show.

That was your assumption until an hour ago.

It started with a simple, “You look so pretty in that dress, baby…” Just a whisper from his lips right against the shell of your ears that bloomed red at his sudden affection in such a public space -granted even if you were hidden away from most cameras and drunken attendees. Hyunjin was never so subtle about it, bowing his head to nudge against your own and letting his chin rest on your shoulder for a moment. You shivered internally, tickled by his body heat and the prickle of his freshly dyed and cut hair.

“Thank you, Hyunie.” You give a smile. A gummy honey dipped grin that makes him flash a charming smile back. “Let’s get another drink yeah?” He doesn’t wait for a proper response. Waving for another round of drinks while you sit up close to his side, enjoying his warmth in a sea of chatter and music.

One shot makes him giddy. Another makes him oddly quiet. And the third has him staring at you as if no one else is worth a glance.

Then comes those sly remarks of his that never seemed to end. The ones that stir butterflies in your chest, heat through your cheeks, and prickles of intrigue and pleasure up your spine. Hyunjin is masterful with his hushed remarks. Uncaring who may hear him mumbling sinful things in your ear again and again.

He wants them to see it, to watch you squirm and fight off the sensation his words alone give you in an instant. His tongue dips and dives with nearly insane phrases and promises.

“What if I fucked your right here, hm? In front of every fucking person just to show them how much of a slut you are for me…”

“Fuck I can’t wait to have that pretty pussy all to myself.”

“Look at you. Can’t even keep still, hm?”

“You’re making me so hard right now it’s starting to piss me off…”

“You'll let me have a taste, right?.”

“Don’t tell me you’re already wet. Fuck you’re just too easy..”

“Awe come on baby I promise one touch won’t hurt. No one is gonna know it besides me.”

“Let’s leave or I’m going to fuck you on the car ride hotel like before but you’d like that wouldn’t you…”

Composure was no longer your concern. His hands found your waist as he scaled and pushed past the crowd. His eyes catching your own more than once while a smirk played on his lips. He’d won. He knew it and you knew it.

He’d keep his promises like always. Let you scratch and run your pretty nails through his shortened hair while he kneels in the back of the SUV driving you both back to his hotel. He’s thorough, consistent, hungry. You wonder which god above favors you so much to make a man so breathtaking yearn to swallow every drop of arousal you let slip from cunt onto his tongue. He’s persistent. Flicking his tongue where he pleases as long as it pleases you too. All those slick comments he’d spilled into your head come rushing back in waves, sending whines from your mouth as he sues the very same mouth that spoke them to suckle on your budding clit and wet folds.

Hyunjin has no shame. Still muttering flattering profanities and aching praises.

“Missed her so much….I always do,” he muses silently beneath your soft and muffled moans, gazing at your fluttering hole with a grace that seems never ending -as if he prides himself in making it so weak and needy with a flick of his tongue.

Your heart stops when he blows a cool breath on your bundle of nerves, planting a long kiss to it right after and diving right back in to lap at dribble of cum collecting at your entrance.

He’s a fiend.

A smooth talker with an addiction.

Hyunjin takes pride in it and you have little to know choice but to accept it.

Because why would you ever settle for a man who doesn’t stick to his word -even the filthiest kind?

Smth sweet and short cause why not. - 🖤 Mrs. Bahng

[immortalmolloy]

Daniel wasn’t expecting any of this. He felt a mix of emotions as she explained it all to him. He had left her to go to Armand and he knew it had upset her. But he didn’t think she would put herself in danger going off without the vampires or security. That was what bothered him the most. Why had she even gone to his therapy to not talk to them? Was it a joke to her? Was this all a big fucking joke to her?

How would he be able to ever go to Armand again if he couldn’t trust that she was safe? That would cause all kinds of problems. Why was she fighting the security so hard? Why couldn’t she just accept it and ignore it like he did? It was her life on the line. Would she rather die than have security follow her around? And did she really resent the vampires that much? She had been drunk and alone, which was basically asking for someone to come along and kill her and she wouldn’t even have her full senses about her.

“I don’t blame myself, Mina,” Daniel said, pulling a pair of pants on. “I blame you. Of course Lestat is mad at you and I’m mad at you too. That was fucking stupid.” He couldn’t be around her. He needed to walk away before he exploded. He would end up saying something really regrettable and he didn’t want to do that. He needed space to process it and calm down and think about what to say to her. He was too upset. He walked out of the bedroom and went to find Lestat.

“So, you want to interview vampires, so you?”

[ventismacchiato]

21 stuck with you — stuck with you !

scaramouche x gender neutral reader

18+ warning: mini smut scene at the end of the second written portion, scara gives head. only one version, view it as 🍑 or 🐱…yk the drill. feel free to skip it, it takes place after scara paints ur nails.

The peace doesn’t last long.

One second, you’re sitting in the dorm’s living room, trying to process everything, and the next, the door slams open with a force that rattles the walls.

“Did you two fuck?”

“WHY DID YOU TURN YOUR MIC OFF?”

“I have money on this, please tell me—”

You sink deeper into your seat as your overbearing members pile in, voices overlapping. Across from you, Scaramouche exhales sharply, already bracing himself for whatever fresh hell this is about to be.

Then Yae walks in.

He moves instantly, slipping off the couch and crouching behind it like that’ll save him. It doesn’t. Yae doesn’t even hesitate before she strides over, grabs him by the collar, and hauls him up with practiced ease.

"Really?" she scoffs. "Turning your mic off? Are you trying to give me an aneurysm?"

Scaramouche rolls his eyes, tugging at her grip. "Oh no, the horror. They missed a few minutes of me."

"Nonetheless," she says, letting him go with a shove, "We can use this. Now that you two aren’t at each other’s throats, it’s time to sell it.” She claps her hands together, all business. “We’re sending you both to paradise."

You blink. "What?"

"But we have to pretend you won a raffle," she adds.

Scaramouche barely gets a chance to react before a crew member is shoving a bowl into his hands.

“Pretend you won!” Yae orders.

He stares down at it like it personally offends him before reaching in and pulling out a slip of paper. In the flattest voice imaginable, he says, "Wow. I won."

Yae narrows her eyes. "More oomph."

He sighs, then tries again. "Wow, I won!”

"More."

"...Yay?"

She nods approvingly. "Better. You’re both leaving today."

You should probably be more concerned about how easily they’re shipping you off somewhere, but honestly? You don’t mind. More alone time sounds nice. Being alone with him sounds nice. 

Yae turns to the crew, already barking out directions, and in the commotion, you catch movement from the corner of your eye.

Scaramouche sneaks off toward Jean, his voice low but just loud enough for you to hear. "Are we taking a boat?"

"Yeah, don’t worry," Jean replies.

You turn away before he can see your face.

He knows. He knows you hate flying. And even though he’ll never say it out loud, he’s making sure that’s not an issue.

Your fingers tighten against your knee. 

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of deja vu wash over you as you stepped back into the room. It was the same one you’d stayed in last time you were in Paradise. But the knot in your stomach felt different now, less anxiety, more anticipation.

“We should go to the hot tub again,” you muse, gazing out at the balcony. It looks far more inviting now that you and Scara aren’t at each other’s throats. Not in the way you were now at least.

You hear him before you feel him, his voice a low murmur in your ear as he steps up behind you.

“There’s a jacuzzi in the bathroom.”

“Isn’t the one outside nicer?”

“No cameras in the bathroom,” he says simply, tapping your waist before walking off. It takes you a minute to register before you’re tailing behind him.

୨୧✧

Steam clung to your skin as you stepped out of the tub, warmth still lingering in your muscles. The air outside felt cooler in contrast, a shiver running down your spine as you absently wrung water from your hair. Scara was already standing by the counter, running his hands through his hair, towel draped over his shoulder, his damp bangs sticking to his forehead. Nothing had happened in the jacuzzi, you’d both kissed a little, but for the most part you just talked. And somehow that felt a lot more intimate than when his hands had roamed your body last night.

Without a word, he gestured for you to sit in front of him. You hesitated. The silence between you was different now. Not strained, not laced with hostility, just quiet. Steady.

Still, you sat, propping yourself up on the counter in front of him. 

The towel was rough at first, dragging over your scalp as he worked through your soaked strands. But then his touch softened, fingers threading through, combing carefully, like he had all the time in the world. 

Your eyes were at level with his chest, which you were thankful for, because you could feel yourself getting flushed. You swallowed, your heart thudding louder than it had last night. This was more intimate than anything. More than the planned glances and the staged kisses for the cameras, more than the heat of his body pressed against yours in the water.

His hands lingered, fingertips brushing over the nape of your neck, tracing the damp curve of your ear as he tucked a stray piece of hair away. Your fingers fumbled idly with a bottle of nail polish left on the counter, rolling it between your hands as he worked through your hair. 

“You’re bad at this,” you murmured, half to break the tension, half because it was true. His movements were careful, almost hesitant, but nowhere near skilled.

A soft scoff left him. “I’ve never done this for someone before.”

You turned slightly, just enough to catch his expression, something unreadable flickering across his face before he glanced away.

Somehow, that made your stomach twist even more.

“Maybe you’re more of a manicure guy, then,” you murmur, your thumb tracing the ridges of the nail polish cap, an absentminded hum escaping you. 

His hands stilled for a beat before he plucked the bottle from your grip, inspecting the color. “Want me to paint them?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Really?”

“I used to paint Fischl’s all the time when we MCed together,” he answers idly, like this isn’t something you should’ve already known. 

That made you pause.

You knew a lot of things about Scara. The annoying way he held himself in interviews, answering every question like a PR team’s dream. The sharpness of his words when he was irritated, and the lack of it when he was only pretending to be annoyed. Or how he could sell a love song like he meant every lyric when you knew he didn’t. Hell, you even knew his allergies, like how he couldn’t eat shellfish without breaking out in hives or how certain flowers made his eyes itch (which you used to your advantage, spending money on bouquets back when you were rivals to see him red faced the next day).

But this? This was something so miniscule. Something unpolished. A detail from a life you hadn’t been part of.

You snap out of your daze to see Scara testing out the color on his own nails, giving it a lazy swirl before glancing at you, expectant. “Well?”

You roll your eyes before wordlessly setting your hand on the counter. He takes it, his grip surprisingly gentle as he steadies your fingers. You found yourself watching his face instead of his work. His brows were knit together, his lips pressing into a thing line. It was cute. He was cute. 

“You’re really taking this seriously,” you muttered, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped every time his thumb smoothed over your knuckles.

“Obviously. I’m not gonna do a shitty job.”

It was so casual, so simple, but something about it made your chest feel tight.

You swallowed, watching as he moved on to the next nail, his hands steady, familiar with the motion. It made you wonder how many times he’d done this for Fischl, how many little things like this he’d done for people you’d never even thought to ask about. 

You didn’t know enough about him. Not really. And for the first time, that realization bothered you.

The words slipped out before you could think. “What else did you do while MCing?”

It was an odd question for the moment, but he didn’t tease you about it. It was a different side of Scara you’ve never seen before, one reserved just for you.

Instead, he flicked a glance at you, “What do you wanna know?

“Everything.”

He chuckled, the sound curling around your ribs like a hook dragging you closer.

“Sure,” he says. And he does.

You learn about the time he did an entire show high off weed. Or the time he presented the award to the wrong group. Or how he forgot his mic was on and cussed out another idol backstage. And how he made a joke about a group disbanding, not realizing they actually were. 

By the time he was done painting your nails you felt your heart tighten. 

You looked down at them, admiring his work when he took your hands and placed them beside you before leaning in without warning. Your nails were still wet, so you couldn’t pull him in, but that wasn’t a problem with Scara. 

His fingers pressed into your jaw as he slid in between your legs, guiding you to wrap them around his waist as he pressed you back into the mirror while you were still on the counter. His lips are on yours and you let yourself melt into him. His fingers tease their way underneath your shirt, kneading into your skin. You wanted to touch him, and he knew that, with the way his lips twitched into a smirk as you instinctively whined into him. 

His hands fall to your waist, guiding them up to grind into him. You can’t help but arch and gasp at the touch, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around yours before sucking lightly at it. 

Perhaps he had ulterior motives for painting your nails, because you could do nothing but sit and take it as his hands and lips explored you. 

18+ warning

The hand on your waist falls away as his lips fall to your jaw. You’d just gotten dressed, but he was already undoing the first few buttons of your top, his lips trailing your collarbone. You can’t help the soft moans slipping through your mouth. With each one escaping your lips he continues to tease and you can feel yourself growing needy, mindlessly grinding up on him. 

His hand slips down towards your pants, swiftly undoing them and lifting you up to slide them down. Your bare skin felt cold on the counter, but hot everywhere else. You were now on display for him.

“Didn’t wear any underwear, hm?” he murmurs into your ear, his fingers tracing your inner thigh. 

“Shut up,” you huff, trying not to think about how good it would feel for his fingers to be inside you once again. You were practically gripping the counter at his mere touch.

“Relax,” he says, how voice low as he falls back. Just as you start to miss his touch he lowers himself to his knees. 

“Scoot up for me,” he says.

“Wait, my nails aren’t dry yet,” you start as Scara tugs you towards him. He hooks your legs over his shoulders until your entrance is facing him.

“Try not to ruin my hard work up there while I’m down here then,” he replies.

His grip on your thighs tighten before his lips are teasing your hole. Your head falls back, a string of gasps leaving your mouth as his lips explore you. He was slow, licking at your entrance and pressing his face into you. And just as you got used to that he was teasing his way in. You buck your hips up on instinct, but he smirks against you as he holds your thighs down. With your hands out of commission you can’t do anything but take it.

You begin to feel flushed and look away from him, embarrassed from how aroused you were getting from a few licks. 

He removes himself from your entrance to dart his hand up to grab your chin, tilting your head down.

“If you look away I’m gonna stop, you don’t want that right?”

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Good,” he murmurs, going back down. 

He begins to alternate between sucking and quick flicks of his tongue, leaving your mind blank of anything except for him. You wanted to grab onto him so badly. He finds your spot easily, hitting it without remorse as you let out incoherent moans. He loosened his grip on your thighs, letting you grind into him as his tongue thrusted in and out of you.

“Mhm, Scara I’m gonna,” you gasp, your eyes glazed as he relentlessly kept going.

“Come for me,” he murmurs. 

The orgasm hits you and you ride it out. He pulls back and lets you finish on his face, his lips dripping with your cum. The sight only makes you want him more. 

“Scara…,” you start, but you don’t finish your sentence before his lips are already on yours, and then trailing towards your ear.

“Should we go back into the tub?” he asks, his breath warm against your ear and his bulge up against your sex.

The night is a blur after that.

[00:00:00] HOT TUB ROUND TWO SCARA

YAE: I thought we talked about this. I want to see and hear EVERYTHING.

SCARAMOUCHE: Even me taking a shit?

YAE: If it means I get everything else that happens in the bathroom then yes.

SCARAMOUCHE: You have a real problem.

YAE: I WILL GET MY SEX TAPE IF SO GOD HELP ME—

JEAN: Let’s…let’s take five.

[00:12:23] HOT TUB ROUND TWO YN

YAE: So. You and Scara aren’t pretending anymore?

YOU: No…

YAE: And how did we get here? Off camera, I’m so curious.

LISA: We also have money on this.

YOU: I honestly don’t know. I think it’s just always been there inside me.

YAE: It? As in?

YOU: My feelings for him. 

YAE: Very thin line between hate and obsession.

YOU: Hey, I didn’t say I was obsessed…

YAE: Hmm. Sure. 

YAE: Now, what exactly happened in the bathroom? If I show you pictures will you tell me if I’m hot or cold?

YOU: What–

YAE: [Pulls out photos] Does this spark any memories?

YOU: Oh my god is that fanart

JEAN: CUT! CUT!

LISA: Wait send that to me

stuck with you!

masterlist — prev | next

wow title of the au omggggg also i ate that reddit edit UP

i hope the mini smut was gn, i tried to make it seem like u finish on his face…so if it’s masc he kinda leans back yk…yall get what i’m saying??? pleek

also chat is anyone else chronically online do we get the morning routine joke or is this too niche gulps

me asking my stoner friends for pics of their vapes for this au 😊

pls lmk if u enjoyed i need motivation juseyo

comment on the MASTERLIST if i can use ur user as a fan in the au!

notes — wow update and u didn’t have to wait a month? who am i? i’m gonna be so busy this month tho guys pray for me 😂

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

taglist — (closed) @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @iheartpieck @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @flowerypesky @creammpuff @boxdisappeared @webbywill @s3xpistolss @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @danfelions @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @haeunoo @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @esuz @tokkishouse @kitsuvil @scarasmood @ihearttori @nomurahayami @androxphobic @reivelmin @animeobsessed56 @femaholicc @vi0let-writes @izayumi-chan @aloflapse

[cyberyam]

pairing: Prisoner!Toji x Fem!Reader cw: smut [MDNI 18+!!] summary: a conjugal visit with your prisoner boyfriend, who is more than happy to see you 𝜗𝜚

Prisoner!Toji, who looks so damn good in orange. The way the jumpsuit clings to his broad chest and thick arms is the first thing you notice, the fabric stretching taut over muscle as he leans back in his chair, shackled hands resting in his lap.

Prisoner!Toji, who licks his lips the moment you waltz into the private holding cell, his dark eyes drinking you in like a man starved. “God, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, voice low and rich as he watches you settle across from him.

Prisoner!Toji, who doesn’t waste a second when the guards unshackle him, relaying that you have ten minutes alone—ten minutes he fully intends to use.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s reaching for you, a rough hand curling around the back of your neck as he pulls you in, lips crashing against yours in a deep, needy kiss.

Prisoner!Toji, who doesn’t break the kiss as he moves, climbing over the table with effortless strength, dragging you up with him until you’re straddling his lap.

Prisoner!Toji, whose hands roam your bare thighs, pushing your dress up as his lips trail lower, teeth grazing your neck before biting down, leaving his mark. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he mutters against your skin, voice thick with hunger.

Prisoner!Toji, who presses his forehead to yours as he yanks at the buttons of his jumpsuit, popping them open to reveal the hard, leaking tip of his cock, already aching for you.

Prisoner!Toji, who hooks a finger under your panties, tugging them aside before lining himself up. His grip is firm as he drags you down onto him in one slow, burning stretch, your body molding around him as you bite back a moan.

“Missed you so fucking much,” he groans, voice ragged as he grips your hips, guiding you up before slamming you back down. “So fuckin’ wet for me—fuck.”

And with the way his hands hold you firm, the way his cock fills you so perfectly, you know you won’t be leaving this room sane.

Prisoner!Toji, who doesn’t give you a second to adjust, his grip on your hips firm as he sets a brutal pace—pulling you up only to slam you back down, over and over, until the sound of skin slapping and breathless moans fills the tiny holding cell.

Prisoner!Toji, who grins against your neck when you try to muffle your sounds, teeth grazing sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “Don’t hold back on me now, sweetheart,” he rasps, voice thick with amusement and desire. “Let ’em hear who you fuckin’ belong to.”

Prisoner!Toji, who watches with dark satisfaction as your head rolls back, your body trembling as you clutch onto his shoulders for dear life, lost in the feeling of him stretching you, filling you, ruining you all over again.

Prisoner!Toji, who groans as you tighten around him, his grip bruising as he thrusts up into you, pushing you closer and closer to that edge—until you’re crying out his name, body convulsing as pleasure crashes over you, not caring who hears.

Prisoner!Toji, who curses under his breath as he buries himself deep one last time, spilling inside you while groaning in your ear, his arms wrapped tight around, not wanting to let go. Not wanting this to end.

Prisoner!Toji, who smirks as he helps you fix your dress, dragging his thumbs over the bruises forming on your hips, admiring his handiwork before leaning up to steal one last, lazy kiss.

Prisoner!Toji, who watches with smug amusement as you stumble toward the door on shaky legs, barely able to walk straight as the guards open the door.

And when one of them casts you a knowing glance before marching towards Prisoner!Toji with cuffs, Toji only leans back in his chair, stretching leisurely as he shoots them a wolfish grin.

“See you next time, sweetheart!" He called over their shoulders, shooting you a final wink before you were escorted away.

© cyberyam

[toasttt11]

single

summary: meeting someone for the first isn’t always perfect

request: *at a store and checking out* “Can you also add that spider-man kinder-joy right there? Make it three.” “Is it for your kids?” “No, for me. I’m single.”

will smith x reader

Will was walking down the isles in Target alone trying to grab a few last minute things before he had to leave for a long road trip later today.

His basket had all of his things he need and he started heading to the register.

Will was putting his phone away after texting Macklin back as Macklin was spamming him with texts.

Will took a step forward and felt someone hit his chest and he quickly reached out grabbing their waist to steady them and accidentally knocking their basket to the floor.

“I am so sorry.” Will quickly apologized feeling embarrassed for almost knocking them over completely and when he looked down, he realized he ran into a girl.

She glanced up at him not noticing how Will’s mouth parted as he looked at her first time as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

“It’s okay.” She gave him a kind smile, her eyes flickering across his face.

“Here let me help.” Will quickly stumbled over his words as he saw her starting to bend down to pick up her basket and items that were on the floor.

She looked up just as he bent down making their forehead bump together and they both hissed in pain holding their own foreheads.

“I’m so sorry again.” Will quickly got some words out looking incredibly sorry as he saw her holding her forehead.

She laughed just softly at his awkward and worried look, “It’s okay really.”

Will softly nodded as he stood up and held out his hand for to take, she grabbed her basket grabbing his hand standing up, “I’m Will.”

Will smiled hearing her name repeating it over in his head.

Will and her both took a step in the same direction and she laughed softly shaking her head and gestured for Will to go first to head to the register.

Will gave her a thankful look and went first and to in line at a register and he set his stuff on the conveyer belt as she waited in line behind him.

Will’s fingers were tapping on the conveyer belt trying to find something to say to the very pretty girl next to him.

He glanced up when the cashier was just scanning the last time and saw the kinder chocolates that Macklin loves, Will would never here the end of it if Macklin found out he didn’t get them.

“Can i still add the spider-man kinder-joy right there?” Will asked the cashier pointing to the kinder on the little shelves next to to the conveyer belt, who just nodded and grabbed one for Will scanning it.

She glanced at him with a little smile shaking her head.

“Actually make it three. Please.” Will added, knowing Macklin wouldn’t share his.

“Is it for your kids?” The cashier drawled at as they scanned the three eggs.

She looked down at her feet giggling softly at the question and the look on Will’s face, she glanced back up as Will answered.

“No, for me. I’m single.” Will stumbled out glancing at her nervously when he said he was single.

The cashier just sighed looking done seeing the glances between the two and handed Will the receipt.

Will slowly started walking away but barely moving that far from the register as she was waiting for her stuff and finished quicker than Will.

She glanced over as she grabbed her bag seeing Will just awkwardly standing there and smiled to herself, he was adorable.

Will smiled perking up as she walked over to him and they slowly started walking out of the target together.

“So kinder eggs?” She asked him softly as they got outside giggling as she asked and Will let out a small groan but smiled at her laughing.

“My friend loves them so i got them for him.” Will explained to her.

“That’s sweet.” She mused and raised an eyebrow seeing Will’s cheeks turning pink as he rubbed the back his head, she would remember that hopefully for later.

“Uh can i have your number?” Will blurted out as they crossed the parking lot. He looked at her with a hopeful look that reminded her of a puppy.

“Sure.” She easily agreed and he handed her his phone, she quickly typed her number in handing it back.

“Enjoy the kinder eggs.” She teased softly as she turned away and started walking away.

Will just smiled goofily as he watched her walk away and immediately sent her a text.

[marauder-misprint]

Hello, I sent you a request today, but I noticed that my internet was a little problematic, so I don’t know if it reached our request, if I sent it a second time, please don’t take me into account.

Main subject Sirius x Slytherin!Femreader exes, the reader is with one of the Slytherin boy to make Sirius jealous.

Preferably Barty Jr or Evan, Please don’t be Regulus because it’s not me to be with your ex-girlfriend’s brother.

And I know fandom Evanı writes as gay but we don’t know much about it, so why not

Hi! Thank you for the request! ❤︎ I hope you don't mind I went with Barty. Not sure how well I wrote the jealousy part, but hopefully it's good enough :) Also, I know Barty is way too chill at the end of this but it's whatever.

'Break up with Crouch'

Sirius Black x Slytherin!reader

2k words

cw: angst, drinking, jealousy

Pissing Sirius off wasn’t your goal. No. You were a decent enough person. You were trying to move on from him. It was clear that he was moving on from you as he graciously accepted the attention of a different girl every day. But still, even if it wasn’t your goal, something bloomed in your chest as you felt his hardened glare from across the Great Hall. 

You were comfortably tucked under Barty’s arm and leaning into his side. You shifted to be able to lean more into Barty. 

“Alright, love?” he purred, looking down at you.

“Brilliant.” 

Being with Barty so far had been good. You weren’t exactly in the same circle before. Barty had approached you after hearing that you and Sirius broke up – it had been quite the news of the week. Frankly, your entire relationship with Sirius had been a source of gossip for your classmates. Sirius with his entire anti-Slytherin agenda and you with your Slytherin princess behavior shouldn’t have worked. It did briefly, but then you fell apart. It had been a fairly vocal disagreement. 

Barty didn’t approach you right away. He gave you a few days to “get over it” and then he started strategically placing himself near you. It didn’t take you long to notice him. He was loud and very in-your-face in a way that made you laugh. Then it was a casual arm draped over your shoulder and sitting next to you during meals. And then when you ended up sitting alone with him in the common room, it wasn’t awkward. It was actually pleasant. One thing led to another and you planned a Hogsmeade trip, – it went really well. 

“You got Charms, right?” Barty asked, standing up.

“Yeah. Flitwick will actually murder me if I’m late again,” you told him, his arm quickly wrapping around your waist as you excited the Great Hall. 

“Hmm, don’t think he’s the killing type.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Fine, detention for a week. Or fifty points. He won’t be happy.”

“Oh no, not fifty points,” he drawled sarcastically despite walking with you in the direction of your class.

“Please, the bigger issue would be detention. I’d rather not waste my time polishing trophies.” 

Barty gave your side a squeeze. “Especially when you can be wasting it with me.”

“Finally, he sees what I’m getting at,” you said with a smile. 

Barty walked with you, an arm around you the entire time, all the way to your desk. This had become commonplace since you started dating. Barty didn’t seem to care if he was late to his own classes if it meant spending more time with you. Somehow he didn’t get detention for being late and you weren’t sure how many points he had lost for Slytherin. 

When Charms ended, it didn’t take Barty long to find you on your way to your next lesson. To say that he was a bit obsessed with you would be an understatement. Once again, he was at your side until you sat down at your desk and Professor McGonagall shooed him out.

“I will see you next period, Mr. Crouch,” she said firmly. “Please do try to not be late.”

“Right-o, Professor,” he replied with a salute. 

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head before leaving. You were certain that he would be late for History of Magic, but you knew that Binns didn’t actually care if any attended his lectures. He just taught. 

Throughout all of Transfiguration, you could feel Sirius’ eyes on you again. Whenever you glanced his direction, it was confirmed. He frowned deeper every time you made eye contact with him. If it was so upsetting to see you, why was he looking at you? You hated how distracting it was, knowing that Sirius was watching you. 

When McGonagall dismissed class, you packed up your notes and left the classroom with Pandora at your side. She was at your side about as much as Barty was, except her reasoning was more understandable being that you had almost identical schedules. It was good that she got along with Barty or your days would be very tense. 

You and Pandora got about halfway to the greenhouses when you were interrupted. You expected the hand on your shoulder to be Barty's. But then you heard the voice.

“Darling, a word.”

Sirius. 

You rolled your eyes but stopped. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest as you turned toward Sirius.

“What do you want, Black?” 

“D’you want me to wait?” Pandora asked, hesitating at the stairs. 

“No, go ahead. Cover for me if I’m late?”

“Sure thing,” she said before disappearing.

You turned your attention back to Sirius. “I’ll ask again. What do you want?”

“What’s going on with you?” he asked, eyes narrowing. 

“Nothing? And even if something was going on, certainly wouldn’t be any of your business.”

“Nothing,” he echoed. “Being escorted by Crouch everywhere you go? That’s not you.”

“Hanging out with my boyfriend isn’t me? You sure? Seems like you don’t know me all that well then.” 

Sirius shook his head. 

“I know you pretty damn well, sweetheart. I know you well enough to know that he isn’t your type.”

You scoffed. “Isn’t my type? What, because he isn’t you?” You shook your head. “I don’t have a type, Black.”

“Whatever you say, princess, but be real. He’s not the guy for you.”

“Why do you even care? I thought you didn’t care for people like me, like Junior.”

Sirius stuttered over his next words, unable to form a coherent thought.

“I… Listen… uh… You… I… fuck…”

You gave him an amused look. 

“You made it very clear that I’m no longer your problem. No longer your concern. So act like it, yeah?” 

You turned away from him and continued your original path to the greenhouses. You were definitely late for Herbology. You knew you’d be coming face-to-face with either a disgruntled Professor Sprout or an annoyed Pandora with how long she had to cover for you. 

---

By the end of the week, you were ready to unwind. You heard about some Hufflepuffs throwing a party somewhere on the seventh floor and you wanted to check it out. Naturally, Barty tagged along. He swung your intertwined hands as you walked down a few corridors. 

“Sure would be nice if those badgers gave a better description of where they were throwing the party, hmm…” Barty mused as you turned another corner. 

“If we’d been personally invited, I’m sure they would’ve,” you replied. “Oh, check that door!” 

A door you didn’t quite recognize was up ahead. Barty hummed enthusiastically and pulled you forward. As soon as he opened the door, you were hit with a wave of sound. Someone was quite good at silencing charms. Very, very good. 

“I think we’ve found our party,” Barty said with a crooked smile. 

Once inside, it didn’t take long for the two of you to get drinks in your hands and to move onto the dance floor. As for any party, no one was questioning your presence without a personal invite. Personally, you thought parties were where you belonged. Outside of Hogwarts, the parties you attended were far more tame, which you weren’t as much as a fan of, but you made do. 

You loved being able to feel the vibrations from the music in your bones. If you couldn’t, you would argue that it wasn’t loud enough. You wanted to feel all of it. This party had the music loud enough and moving your body to the beat was easy enough, especially with Barty standing behind you. His hands were planted firmly on your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. 

Between the feeling of the bassline and Barty, for once you didn’t feel the gaze of Sirius, despite it being there. You hadn’t spotted him when the two of you entered the room. He had though. Your presence with Barty, with how you were dancing with him, was distracting for him. Sirius couldn’t focus on the pretty Hufflepuff in front of him anymore, not when he couldn’t take his eyes off you and all he could think about were the few times that you’d danced like that with him. He was practically fuming with his grip on his drink tightening. 

After another song, Sirius slammed the rest of his drink and moved the poor Hufflepuff out his way. He waited off to the side of the dance floor until you asked Barty to get you another drink. Barty nipped at your ear before leaving your side for the first time of the night. But as soon as he was gone, Sirius slipped in. His hands immediately replaced where Barty’s had been. You spun around and glared at him. 

“You are not my boyfriend,” you snapped quickly. 

“I was,” he replied, his voice lower than usual. 

You rolled your eyes but let Sirius move your hips to the music. 

“Junior will kill you if you keep your hands on me.” 

“I can handle him. But what about you? Will you be killing me?” 

You barked a laugh. “You know I’m able to.”

“I do,” he said, leaning in to say it into your ear. “Which is why I’m wondering why you’re wasting your time with Crouch. He’s below you.”

You took a step back, but Sirius just followed you, taking a step forward. 

“He cares about me, something you weren’t able to do.”

“Never said I didn’t care about you.”

You leaned forward. “But I’m a Slytherin.” 

“My favorite Slytherin.” 

You rolled your eyes again and made to move away from Sirius. Sirius, however, was determined to stay near you. Every step you took away from him, he took another closer to you. 

“Break up with him.”

“What?” you hissed. 

“Break up with Crouch.”

“And why would I do that?” 

“Because… because I care for you more than he does.”

You crossed your arms. Sirius stood a stride away from you, looking at you just as softly as he did before you broke up.

“You have no way to prove it,” you said firmly, trying to ignore the feeling in your stomach. 

“I will. I will make it up to you.” He took a half step toward you. “If you don’t feel anything for me, stay with him. But if you feel anything for me, anything… Break up with him and give us another chance.” 

You frowned and closed your eyes. You did still feel positive emotions for him. You hated that you did and you hated that you were considering what he was asking. You hated that he knew you were considering it. 

And then Barty showed up with your drink in hand. 

“Oi, this tosser bugging you, love?” Barty asked, eyeing Sirius cautiously. 

“Sadly, he isn’t,” you said. “I think it’s over between us.” 

“Shit…” Barty said, frowning. “Him?” 

You couldn’t look at Barty as you nodded. He put a hand on your shoulder. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. I’m smart enough to know when a rebound is a rebound.” 

You gaped as Barty handed you the drink he had just grabbed for you and then disappeared into the dancing crowd. 

“So, now that he’s out of the picture…” Sirius said, returning his hands to your hips. 

“You have to earn my forgiveness. And that you can love a Slytherin.”

Sirius now had you pressed against his body. “Oh, I can prove that.”

For some reason that you couldn’t pinpoint, you believed him. You believed that he would not only make it up to you, that he would do all he could to get back on your good side and stay there. Maybe it was the fact that you said love and he said he could prove it. He didn’t balk at the word like you thought he would. At least for the time being, you knew that Sirius would be more devoted to you than Barty was and with your history, Sirius would be around for a long time. He knew you and he knew that if he blew this chance with you, your revenge would have him at least in the hospital wings for weeks, if not worse. 

Tags: @navs-bhat, @bruxa0007

[lumieveeeldee]

Keith isn’t doing anything special when it hit him. He’s seated next to Krolia, peeling some strange alien fruit when his insides catch fire.

It starts in his fingers and travels up his arms, boiling his blood in his veins and freezing him over all at the same time. A presence in his head, one so familiar, a scarlet feline yowling in pain, in mourning.

Krolia is in front of him. Her mouth is moving but Keith can’t hear her, he’s deafened by the ringing in his ears and the pained caterwauling of Red throbbing behind his eyes, and his vision blurs—

Keith pitches forward, and the world goes dark.

~

He’s underwater, and he’s not alone. There’s someone else just up ahead. Their lips are blue and their face is slack. Their eyes are closed, and Keith can tell they’re not just sleeping. They are someone Keith knows, someone he loves.

Bubbles erupt from Keith’s mouth as he kicks his feet desperately, hands outstretched, reaching for the body suspended in front of him.

As soon as his fingers graze their wrist, they dissolve, and the world he finds himself submerged in shakes with a grief-stricken roar.

~

Keith shoots up with a strangled gasp, nearly slamming his head into Krolia’s. He’s back in the cave, he realizes, on the space whale, the Paladins light years away.

Red’s guilt and grief form a steady pulse in his head, and the realization crashes into him with all the force of a plummeting meteor.

He scrambles to his feet, ignoring Krolia’s worried exclamation of his name. The blood rushes to his head and threatens to throw him off balance, but Keith sprints out of the cave anyways, eyes burning.

Ever since his father’s death, Keith has rarely cried. He cried the first night in foster care, and he cried when Shiro was declared dead on the Kerberos mission.

That was it. He hadn’t even cried the second time Shiro went missing, because he knew he’d find him again.

Now, though, the tears burn grooves down his face as he runs through the foliage, not stopping until he trips at the edge of the riverbed where they get their water.

A sob rips its way out of his throat as he pinches himself, certain this must be a dream, because Lance wasn’t—Lance couldn’t be—

But the mournful wails of Red in his mind forced him to see the truth.

Lance was gone. Lance was gone, Lance was gone, Lance was gone.

~

He’s too exhausted and devastated to acknowledge Krolia when she approaches.

He’s on his side at the riverbed when she finds him, having long cried himself out. His eyes burn and his throat stings and none of it compares to the gaping wound that has been torn into his heart.

She doesn’t try to talk to him, just hooks her arms under his knees and shoulders and hoists him up.

Where there should be embarrassment and anger, there is only cold, endless nothing. She presses his head to her shoulder, and Keith barely registers that it’s happening.

She’s humming something as she walks, a tune that’s painfully familiar, but the memory is too far away for him to grasp.

His mother is cradling him. He hasn’t allowed himself to think of her as anything more than Krolia until this point, but he’s too hurt to further deny himself the comfort of his mother.

He thinks he knows why Lance missed his own mom so dearly, now, as he falls into a fitful sleep.

~

Red mourns for days, and Keith feels like a hollow shell that only has room for grief.

His days are filled with repeated movements and silence. He doesn’t talk. He wouldn’t know what to say if he did.

His dreams are filled with crooked smirks and freckles skin, and the image of hands gripping Red’s controls as electricity shoots from the dashboard into Red’s pilot, stopping his heart.

Keith can’t tell where his own anguish ends and Red’s begins. He can hardly tell that time is passing at all, each aching moment just an echo of Lance.

There’s an emptiness in Red’s presence, and Keith can feel it in himself.

Lance is gone.

Krolia doesn’t push him about it, and if Keith were anything more than an empty husk, he’d be grateful.

It isn’t until the eighth day of being stuck in his sorry state that Red’s mournful cries turn hopeful.

Keith freezes, and Krolia tenses beside him, hands hovering around him like she’s scared he might topple again. Keith holds his breath, feels the way the empty presence of Red suddenly becomes full again.

The energy is familiar, playful like the morning tide and comforting like the feeling of warm water sinking into aching muscles after a long day.

The energy is Lance.

Lance is alive.

Keith collapses backwards into Krolia with the force of his joy and shock, a tearful laugh slipping past his lips.

“Lance is alive.” Speaking the words into existence makes it feel all the more real, and Keith sags with relief, the wound in his chest stitching itself closed.

“Lance is alive.”

[beanarie]

(my take on 8x14-8x15. bucktommy. danger. athena. rooftop. lesgo.)

~

Tommy's lungs have been replaced with a fifty year old vacuum cleaner, constantly going over the same tiny spot again, and again, without doing the actual job. The sound it makes is a little alarming.

"Tommy." Evan sounds like someone dredged a violin from the bottom of the sea and tried playing it, the syllables loud and shrill and discordant. "You're- You're gonna be okay."

"Huh," Tommy says in acknowledgment.

"The air ambulance will be here any second."

"Huh." He lets his gaze slide away to the darkening sky.

"No!" Evan says. "Hey. Hey. Tommy? Look at me." Tommy does. Evan's eyes are full, spilling over. "I didn't mean it. Of course I have feelings for you, okay? I love you. You have to stay with us."

Oh. Tommy arches his back slightly, pushing at the ground with his shoulder blades. Athena yells out and tightens her grip, but those couple of seconds earn him enough air to whisper. "D-Don't start lying to me now."

Evan looks like he's the one drowning at 800 feet. He lays his hand on the side of Tommy's face. "Will you ever get out of your own way?"

Tommy closes his eyes and finds himself in Evan's kitchen, finishing up the scrambled eggs. Evan likes his dry as a bone and with a sprinkling of ketchup. Which is weird, but he's a WASP.

Evan walks in and, god. He's a painting. Tommy can't decide what specific style, but this one would be old, and retroactively held up as an example of queer art because of how lovingly the subject was rendered. The early morning sunlight highlighting the two day scruff on his face, the curls perched on top of his head just so.

Anxiety thrumming in his body like an electric current, Tommy asks for another chance. He doesn't apologize for leaving. He doesn't know if this chance reconnection is strong enough yet to deal with the initial breakup and the issues behind it. But he wants to try. Evan closes the distance between them.

"And- And you're not scared I'll break your heart anymore?"

"Not as much," Tommy confesses. Wait, it's too soon for that. He starts again, more definitively. "No."

"Okay," Evan says, nodding in rapid succession as his tentative smile widens to a grin. "Okay, good. Yeah. Let's do it. Please?"

He's so beautiful that Tommy regrets having to close his eyes when they kiss.

Tommy's back is against the fridge and they're laughing like they did last night, giddy and grateful.

Why is it so bright all of a sudden?

"Tommy?" Evan's hands are splayed along the back of his head, almost supporting his neck. The air feels thin. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Tommy gets a flash of a face. Rendell the aeromedic.

Athena Grant.

A gun.

There's blood in Tommy's mouth. He coughs and doubles over, trying to spit it out. He ends up on the floor, alone and shivering in the kitchen that used to belong to Eddie and Chris Diaz. "Evan?"

Evan is gone, but he can still hear his voice, competing in an amateur chorus with several others. "Come back," he's saying.

[sprytesukii]

18+ | suguru loves strays <3 | cw. yandere!suguru, implied f!reader (no pronouns used), stalking, violent fantasies, extremely brief sexual content | ~ 1.4k words

you’re skittish.

that’s the first thing suguru notices about you.

you sit at the opposite end of the bar, practically pressed up against the wall, nursing the same bottle of nondescript beer you’ve had for over an hour, looking like a stray cat ready to run.

loud noises make you flinch, which is often considering the rowdiness of this particular establishment and the energy levels of the “friends” you came in with.

they don’t look like very good friends to suguru, or they wouldn’t have left you alone to fend for yourself when you’re clearly better suited to be at home. doted on, in the quiet confines of a place you’re comfortable in.

the look on your face of weariness, of exhaustion, makes him want to put you in his pocket. tuck you up under his chin, push your face against his broad chest and let you decompress there for a while.

suguru takes a sip of his water, watching you all the while.

you don’t seem to notice his eyes, which is both nice and alarming. he likes that he can drink in his fill of you — you clearly made an effort tonight, wearing a nice, low cut top and a comfortable pair of jeans, but the thin layer of makeup doesn’t hide the bags under your eyes or the tense way you hold yourself — but he hates that you lack self awareness. anyone could come up to you, come after you, and you’d have no idea.

he takes a deep breath, bringing his glass up to his lips again.

you aren’t his (yet), but when you are, he’ll take care of you. you won’t need to worry about people lurking in the shadows because he won’t let them get close. he’ll be right there in the shadows with them and they will be lucky if he kills them quickly.

suguru blinks away the bloodlust, only to realize you’re looking at him. you startle when his eyes meet yours, looking back down at the stained bartop as humiliation clearly rockets through you.

see? skittish.

it’s cute, really. he’s glad you at least have the wherewithal to recognize that he’s dangerous. not to you, never to you, but he knows what you see when you look at him.

tall, over 6 foot. long, dark hair, half tied up. piercings. the dark robe he cloaks himself with, yet still doesn’t hide his stature. the thickness of him, the breadth.

despite the neutral look on his face, he knows he’s built like a predator and you, you know you’re prey.

your eyes dart back to look at him again, surprised to find him still looking, still interested (as if he could look away), and this time you don’t immediately turn your gaze.

oh? his kitten’s gotten curious.

he preens. leans back a little to let you look your fill. it’s only fair, really, since he’s been doing it to you since you walked in.

your eyes widen at his casual display, but you take the invitation for what it is. your gaze isn’t sensual - it’s quick, rabbity. darts from place to place, never fully lingering on any one area before it’s onto the next.

cute.

once you’re done, though, you look back up at his face and you get embarrassed. you send him a weird, awkward little smile, before looking back down at your bottle, shame drawing around your shoulders like a blanket.

it makes suguru sad. upset. you shouldn’t feel like that, not when you haven’t done anything wrong. it’ll be something he trains out of you, the shame. it won’t be easy, but something tells him it’s something you need.

he can picture it now - spreading you wide on his sheets, seeing how your body reacts to him a hairsbreadth away from your sensitive core. dragging two long fingers through your folds, listening to you mewl. fingering you until your legs threaten to close around his ears, making you repeat after him that you are beautiful. that you are worthy. that you are everything.

suguru will worship you until you understand it yourself, that there is something gorgeous beneath your soggy, scared exterior.

he’ll teach you that there’s nothing to be afraid of when you’re with him. that he’ll utterly destroy anyone who tries to make you feel less than.

it’s not often that suguru goes unaware, so when he realizes he’s been lost in thought for a few minutes and now you’re no longer at your barstool, he gently, but quickly sits up at his full height, scanning the room for you.

he’s been described as eerie before, as too intense, but he revels in it now, eyes swiftly inspecting every person in the bar, before discarding them when they don’t match you.

suguru’s moments away from leaving the bar to go after you when finally, he hears you, your voice rising above the din, calling out to him.

not literally — you’re stumbling over your words to one of your friends, making your excuses to leave while they listen half-heartedly, obviously eager to get you to leave as well — but it might as well be a siren call to him.

(he commits the friend’s face to memory, knowing he’ll have to have a … chat with them in the coming weeks. you need good people around you, a support system, not people spending time with you from a place of obligation or, god forbid, pity. he’d rather them die before they make you feel inferior again.)

suguru watches you crumple in on yourself more and more, until you finally grab your purse and begin walking for the door. it’s then that he decides to move, paying for his drink before slipping through the crowd, despite his size and breadth.

by the time he gets to the door, you’re barely through it and he holds it open for you the rest of the way. you jump a little, tilting your head up to look at him, tears rimming your waterline.

his heart folds in on itself, sinks. you should never look like that. so defeated, so ashamed. he almost pulls you into him, almost holds your chin so he can study you, make sure you haven’t completely shattered.

but, he remembers - you’re a stray. if he moves too quickly, he can lose you forever. that’s not an option.

so, instead, suguru softens his face as best he knows how, pushing the door closed behind him so it’s just the two of you beneath the moonlight, alone but for the crickets at this time of night.

“are you alright, sweetheart?” he asks, honey soft, and he watches his words hit you. watches your face open up, tears filling your eyes more, but now for a different reason. watches as you respond to the gentle caress of someone caring about you, seeing past the paper thin walls you put up to protect yourself.

he watches you realize, in real time, that he’s a veritable stranger and the walls go back up, unknowing or uncaring of how flimsy they are. “y-yeah, i’m okay. thanks for - for asking.”

god, you’re perfect. so clearly mishandled and just waiting for someone to take care of you like you need.

the smile that crosses suguru’s face is genuine as he nods, moving closer to you slowly, like one would approach a wild animal.

“anytime, love,” your eyelids flutter at the term of endearment and suguru’s heart leaps. “make sure you take care of yourself, alright?”

your eyebrows furrow a little, like you’re upset he’s insinuating you need a reminder like a child, but it doesn’t last. you smile at him instead, small and private. suguru feels like he’s walking on air.

“i will, um-“

“suguru.” he doesn’t even entertain offering you his family name, not when he never wants to hear it fall from your lips. those lips part in surprise when you realize what he’s done and then break into a pleased grin as you offer him your own name, leaving off the family name in kind.

suguru’s mind sings. mine mine mine mine mine mine.

it chants it, a mantra, even as you wish him a goodnight and head off to your apartment, unaware how he slips into the shadows and follows you there.

it plays over and over as he stares up into your open windows, watching you greet your cat and then get undressed, talking to yourself at every step. endearing.

it remains a steady stream as he sits in the chair beside your bed, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you sleep, a little smear of drool at the corner of your mouth.

mine mine mine mine mine.

now all suguru has to do is make you realize it too.

[deadrobinthoughts]

†  1:34 AM : tim.

⋆˙⟡ "no, you didn’t! you let me walk into a fight blind!"

⋆˙⟡ request: laying awake, post fight with 90s tim. ↦ kalico note: i should make a different banner...

the room is too quiet.

not peaceful, just heavy.

the type of silence that follows a fight, the kind that leaves you both wondering if it's worth it to stay. frustration thick in the air, hurtful words lingering.

tim is beside you, arms crossed behind his head, and his gaze settled on the ceiling, like he's looking for the answers to all of your problems. unbeknownst to you, he's replaying everything in his head, picking it apart piece by piece, word by word.

he's analyzing everything like a crime scene, regret curling into his gut but he's not going to say that. he's not going to apologize.

you don't really care, honestly. because, this time, he's wrong.

it wasn't the first time he'd kept something from you, from the team. but when it came down to a fraction of a second and your life nearly being lost because he'd withheld information, it was a breaking point.

"it wasn't necessary for you to know." "it.. it's wasn't--- tim, i almost died!" "i had it under control. you're still here." "no, obviously, you didn't! do you even realize - understand - what would have happened if i had been the tiniest bit slower? christ, you can just admit your wrong! the world won't end!" "i knew it would be fine."

the worst part of it all? he believed his own words. he fully believed he had a right to keep it from you, believed you'd have been fine. he believed he knew everything.

and now, you're laying in the aftermath of it. contemplating.

you exhale sharply, shifting just enough that the bed creaks beneath you. tim’s fingers move against the sheets, brushing yours. hesitant. barely touching, but not pulling away.

"so, are you going to say anything?"

tim sighs. "i don’t want to fight anymore."

you weren't surprised. the argument had started like most do with him, sharp, logical, and over him making a stupid decision. you called him out for shutting you out again, for acting like he doesn’t have to tell you anything just because he’s used to handling things alone.

"you don’t get to decide what i need to know, tim." "look, i wasn’t trying to shut you out. i just didn’t think it was relevant." "you not sleeping for three days and nearly getting your friends killed is really fucking relevant." "i was fine." "you're kidding? you were running on fumes. you made a shit call. all of us are pissed. and you- if you spout this 'i'm used to it' lone world bullshit again-"

everything went downhill from that point on. you grew more and more frustrated, feeling like he wasn't hearing a single word you were saying. his coping mechanism kicked in, responses becoming sharp, cruel, like maybe if he hurt you enough, you'd just drop it and walk away.

after a long pause, after his comment, he collected your hand, lacing his fingers through your own.

"not that i think i was wrong."

it took everything in you not to turn over and scream into your pillow, frustrated beyond belief. he just tightened his hold on your hand, squeezing as if he was trying to comfort you.

you look over to him, rolling your eyes.

"of course you don’t. tim drake is never wrong."

tim’s lips twitch, not quite a smirk, but close. "i picked you, didn't i?"

"i will actually strangle you if you say another word."

[tobiosbbyghorl]

hyper and chill suggestion!!!

i came across a really cute couple mirror selfie on pinterest!!! andddd i was wondering who between them would keep making silly faces and instead of nice cute selfies it turns into a giggle-filled photoshoot with more bloopers

Hyper & Chill | psh

act 24:Photobooth

It started with a simple walk through the mall.

You were supposed to just grab snacks and maybe window shop for a bit, but then—

“Oooh! Lolove, look!” You gasped, grabbing his arm.

Sunghoon barely had time to react before you were dragging him toward the brightly lit photobooth stall near the arcade.

“Lolove, seriously?” He raised a brow, amused. “A photobooth?”

You pouted. “Come on, it’ll be cute! We don’t have any printed pictures together.”

He sighed, but the tiny smile on his lips told you he wasn’t actually against it.

“Fine, fine.” He let you shove him inside the booth, sliding in beside you on the tiny bench.

You excitedly picked a frame on the screen while he casually slung an arm over the back of the seat.

“All right, first one—just smile normally!” you instructed, already posing.

The countdown started.

3… 2… 1—

Click!

You smiled sweetly.

Sunghoon?

The menace was making the goofiest face possible.

Mouth open, eyes crossed, fingers doing bunny ears behind your head.

You gasped. “Park Sunghoon!”

He just grinned.

“Okay, next one, be serious!” you warned, trying to stop laughing.

3… 2… 1—

Click!

This time, he puffed out his cheeks and threw up peace signs, looking absolutely ridiculous.

You smacked his arm. “Sunghoon, I said serious!”

But he was dying laughing. “You actually thought I’d listen?”

You groaned. “I should’ve taken these alone.”

Sunghoon only laughed harder. “Nope, you’re stuck with me.”

The next two shots were no better—you tried to be serious, but he kept making silly faces, so eventually, you gave in and joined him.

By the end of it, you were both giggling like kids.

But then—

“…Okay, okay,” Sunghoon said, still catching his breath. “I’ll make it up to you.”

He put in more coins before you could even protest.

You blinked. “Wait, you actually want a redo?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, suddenly focused. “Let’s do it properly.”

And that’s when you realized—his entire demeanor had shifted.

Gone was the playful Sunghoon.

Now, he was serious.

The countdown started again.

This time, on the first shot, he smiled at the camera—a real smile, the one that made your heart do flips.

The second shot, he gently took your hand, intertwining your fingers on his lap.

The third shot—he turned to look at you instead of the camera.

And on the final shot—

He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

Click!

Your heart nearly exploded.

The flash faded, leaving you both in the dimly lit booth, mere inches apart.

You stared at him, stunned, cheeks burning. “…Sunghoon?”

He smirked, but his own ears were definitely pink.

“Now that’s a good set of photos,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard.

Yeah.

You were never throwing these away.

After recovering from the absolute meltdown Sunghoon just gave you in the photobooth, you both walked out with the freshly printed photo strip in your hands.

You stared at it, replaying the last shot over and over in your mind. Did he really kiss you just like that? So casually? So smoothly??

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was trying very hard to act like his ears weren’t still pink.

“Where to next?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You were about to answer when—

“Oh my god, look at this mirror!” You gasped, stopping in front of a cute boutique store.

Right at the entrance was a full-length mirror decorated with heart-shaped stickers and pastel doodles, with a little sign that said “Take a selfie, leave a memory!”

Your eyes sparkled. “We have to take a mirror selfie here.”

Sunghoon groaned. “Lolove, we just took a bunch of pictures—“

“But this is different!” You whined, already pulling your phone out.

Sunghoon sighed, but when you turned your puppy-dog eyes on him, he gave in instantly. “Fine.”

You beamed and dragged him in front of the mirror, angling your phone for the perfect shot.

At first, you both just posed normally—standing close, Sunghoon’s hand resting on your waist while you smiled at the reflection.

Then, just for fun, you made a peace sign while Sunghoon lifted an eyebrow at you.

“Do something cute!” you nudged him.

“Like what?” he muttered.

Without thinking, you turned to him and pressed a quick peck to his cheek.

Sunghoon froze.

You clicked the picture at the perfect moment—him standing completely still, lips slightly parted, ears burning red.

You cackled. “Oh my god, you look so flustered!”

Sunghoon immediately covered his face with one hand. “You can’t just do that!”

“Why not?” You grinned, scrolling to look at the picture. “You kiss me in a photobooth, but I can’t kiss your cheek?”

He huffed, still obviously shy. “…That was different.”

You giggled. “Aw, is my big, confident Sunghoon shy?”

His jaw clenched, and he snatched your phone.

Before you could protest, he suddenly leaned down and pressed a soft, slow kiss to your temple—his lips lingering for just a second.

You barely had time to process it before he snapped the picture.

You gaped at him.

Sunghoon smirked, handing your phone back. “There. Now we’re even.”

You stared at the new photo—him kissing your temple, you looking completely caught off guard.

Your heart exploded.

“…I’m printing this one,” you muttered, cheeks burning.

Sunghoon chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”

Neither of you said it, but one thing was very clear.

That mirror selfie?

Would definitely be framed later.

©️ tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved

taglist: @iboughtnjz @rikidaze @pocketzlocket @jaerisdiction @ijustwannareadstuff20 @doririsstuff @whateveridontcarsheesh @rikifever @firstclassjaylee @jayhoonvroom @veilstqr

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rissierjie

[flowery-mess]

broken, you know that I've always been

Pairing: frat boy Noah x female reader

reader has a name (Ella Thompson, but the story is written in 'your' POV)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI / alcohol consumption / drunk male character / mentions of death and thinking of lost family members / child abandonment / let me know if there's anything else

Words: 4k

Author's note: so I'm just gonna leave this here and sleep off my hangover, hope you won't hate me much when I come back haha🥹

frat boy Noah masterlist

‼️ This story is a work of fiction, the plot and characters entirely made up. The appearance and name of the main male character are inspired by Noah Sebastian Davis, but the storyline bears no connection to the real person. The character's history, personality, and actions are entirely fictional and do not reflect the life or experiences of the real person.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“What if I get wasted tonight”

Noah’s message lit up your phone. You were currently in your biology class, not really paying attention.

“Are you asking me for permission or what?”

“Do you see a question mark in that message?”

“Then why are you telling me?”

“Just making sure you won’t get mad”

“Why tf would I get mad Noah?”

“Because that means no sex tonight”

“Worst day of my life then”

“Exactly”

“Shut up”

“But I do need something from you”

“Spill”

“I’m staying at the frat house after school, but I drove here. Will you drive me home tonight?”

“Are you seriously letting me drive your stupid expensive car because you wanna get shit faced?”

“Yep”

“Amazing, that’s better than sex. Looking forward to being your chauffeur tonight.”

What you didn’t know was that those were Noah’s last sober words for today.

—

Knowing that you’re not going to drink any alcohol tonight and will end up as Noah’s babysitter, you went to the library after your last class and continued with your school work.

Before you even knew it, it was 6PM and you had missed calls and texts from the group chat.

Molly: Ella where are you? You’re gonna be late

Clara: We’re having pre drinks, come home asap or there won’t be any left for you

Molly: We’re leaving in an hour!!

Molly’s last message was sent an hour and half ago, meaning they’re already at the frat house. You sent them a quick “I’ll come later.” message and started packing your things.

Back at your dorm you considered not going out tonight and just wait until a drunk Noah calls you to pick him up. You were not in a mood for a party tonight, let alone sober one.

Molly: Your boy is getting wild tonight!

Molly: Get your ass over here or we’re gonna come for you

You rolled your eyes at Molly’s messages. The worst part was that they would really come back just to drag you to the house full of people.

You pulled the first clothes out of your wardrobe, 100% sure that if there would be a contest for the most boring outfit you’d win tonight.

But grey loose jeans, basic black t-shirt and a hoodie was your choice tonight.

As you dragged yourself over to the frat house, as slowly as you could, your phone buzzed again in your pocket and you were ready to throw it away if it was another message from Molly. But it wasn’t.

Noah: ae you conihg togt.,?

You stopped walking and focused on the words on your display. He was wasted and it wasn’t even 10PM.

“I’m on my way.” you quickly replied and continued walking in the direction of your today’s nightmare.

As you were closer and closer, you could hear the loud music and soon enough you also saw people in front of the house with red plastic cups in a few different groups.

You avoided all of them, making your way straight for the main door.

The inside of the house was even louder and packed with people. You scanned the room without a care if you’re going to find Noah or your friends first.

“Here you are!” Clara hugged you from behind and yelled in your ear.

“What took you so long?” Molly asked and then eyed your outfit, “And what the hell are you wearing?”

“You look very nice today too Molly.” you shot her a sarcastic smile, “I’m not drinking tonight and I’m not even in a mood to be here. I promised Noah that I’m gonna drive him to his place in his car so he can drink tonight.”

“Cute.” Molly and her annoying comments.

“Shut up. Have you seen him?” you continued searching for him behind your friends.

“Yeah, last time we saw him he was with a group of freshmen telling them, and I quote “The best secret places to jerk off in this house where no one can catch you.””

“Oh god.” you rolled your eyes. Something like that was so out of character for sober Noah. “I’m gonna try to find him and then I’ll come back.”

You didn’t wait for their answer and started walking through every room on the ground floor, but with no luck.

You tried the first floor and also the backyard, but there was no sight of Noah. Well, if he was hiding in any of his secret spots there’s no way you’ll find him.

You went to the last place you could think of, your place.

No sight of Noah again.

You sat on one of the swings and took out your phone. You started typing a message for Noah that said “Our place right now.”, keeping it short and simple so his drunk eyes could read it.

You didn’t expect any answer, so you were surprised he managed to send you “Pk” back, hoping it was meant to be Ok and not anything else.

After a few more minutes of swinging and scrolling through your phone you heard heavy and unsteady steps coming towards you.

“Hi!” a hiccup, “I was scared that you, you wouldn’t come.” he stopped in front of you, but only for a second before the spinning inside his head sent him to the right.

“My god Noah sit down.” you guided him to an old bench and watched him fall on his ass.

“You’re the best!” he pointed at you and you heard another hiccup.

“Give me your car keys.” you reached out your hand, but instead of doing what you said, he high fived your palm with his. “Noah, give me your car keys before you lose them.” you were trying to be reasonable with him, but he wasn’t getting it.

“You have to find them.” he said with a smirk.

“Did you lose them already?” you asked in shock, the idea of you and him trying to find them sending you into a coma.

“No, no, no, no.” he leaned back against the back of the bench and with a smirk on his face said, “I have them on me, but if you want them, you have to find them.”

“I’m not trying to flirt with you Noah, give me the keys.”

“Nop.”

“Noah.”

“Mhmhm.” he nodded his head no and your patience started running out.

“Okay.” your hands went for his front pockets, touching them with your palm over the fabric. You only felt his phone there. “Stand up.”

“Bossy.” he chuckled to himself, but followed your orders.

You did the same with his back pockets and found his wallet and the car keys. When you were taking them out of the stuffed pocket you heard him say “I like it when you touch my ass.”

“Oh I’m so telling you that tomorrow morning.” you let out a laugh for the first time tonight.

You used your pointer finger and poked his chest and he was back on his ass. He was looking up at you with a big smile.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re my friend.”

“I am.”

“And I like you.”

“I like you too Noah, you’re my friend too.”

Something in his face changed, the smile was still there, but his eyes turned sad.

He was thankful to have you in his life, but it reminded him that not everyone always cared about him like you do.

“Are you okay?” you asked him when he didn’t speak up again.

“Mhm.”

“That’s not very convincing.” you whispered and reached out to push his hair out of his face. “Why are you drinking like that tonight?”

“I felt like it.” another hiccup. His answer was quick and something in the tone of his voice told you that you’re not going to get more out of him.

“Okay, but be careful and don’t do anything stupid okay?” you pulled him up from the bench by his hands and he kept holding them to stabilize himself.

“Yes captain.” he booped your nose and together you started walking towards the door that led you back inside.

You sent Noah off to his friends and went to find yours too.

Thankfully that was easy, they were where you left them before you went to find Noah.

You didn’t like being the sober one in a house full of drunk people. It made you feel uncomfortable and vulnerable.

You and the girls found a quiet corner and after a few more comments from Molly about you not drinking tonight you fell into a nice conversation.

You saw Noah a few times throughout the night, but he was mostly outside or with his friends in Matt’s room. Every time he looked more drunk and every time he walked through the main room he made silly faces at you.

You were thinking you’re never going to leave, because despite the amount of alcohol he had in his system, Noah didn’t look like he was leaving any time soon.

You didn’t even know that he was back downstairs since the last time you saw him go to Matt’s room with more beers, but suddenly he was on the kitchen table with a group of people around him.

They were chanting “Noah! Noah!” and something told you that you should get over there to find out what was happening.

“What is he doing?” you asked Nick when you reached the group.

“He picked a dare.”

“Dare to do what?”

“Do a shirtless dance on a table.” Nick said it as if it was an obvious fact and continued to watch Noah’s show.

You didn’t know if you should take a video so you could use it against him later or get him down before he stumbles over his own feet and falls down.

The group around him hyped him up and he started to lift his t-shirt while doing something that should've probably been the dancing part.

He threw his t-shirt to his friends and his toned and tattooed chest was on full display for everyone.

You looked around you and saw girls from different years, looking at him with hungry eyes. They shouldn’t look at him like that, they shouldn’t even see him like that.

Your eyes found Noah again, his hips were now moving in a weird way and he was singing the song that he chose for his performance.

He must be pretty drunk, because he wouldn’t do this even after a few beers on a normal occasion.

When you saw him catch his balance at the last minute before he almost fell from the table, you pushed your way through the group of people and yelled “Show's over!”

You got to the table and saw Noah jump on his friends. They caught him, but you stopped breathing for a second.

“We’re leaving.” you took his t-shirt from Matt’s hands and tried to put it back on Noah.

“I don’t wanna yet.” he couldn’t stand still, making it harder for you to put his t-shirt over his head.

“Noah, you’re ready to go to bed.” it was as if after you said those words a wave of tiredness hit him.

His head was hanging low and his eyes suddenly looked heavy. He stopped moving around and you finally slid the black fabric over his upper body, ending the show for those girls that were still watching him.

He said goodbye to his friends as if he’d never see them again. You just waved at Molly and Clara, because once you left the kitchen Noah’s arm was around your shoulders and he needed your assistance.

“Come on, we’re almost there.” you had your arm around his torso, trying to hold as much of his weight as you could so he wouldn’t fall on the ground.

“My car!” he yelled when he saw his black Range Rover parked in the same spot since this morning.

“Finally.” you mumbled to yourself.

You opened the passenger door and literally threw him inside. His body was folded in a weird angle and you had to help him with the seatbelt.

“Be gentle. I’m always gentle with you.” he said, offended by the way you were handling his body. He was right though, he was always gentle with you, but sadly you couldn’t carry his drunk body as he did with you when you were too drunk to walk.

“Sorry.” you brushed his hair out of his face and traced your fingers on his cheek as an apology.

You quickly sat behind the driving wheel and started the car.

“I trust you to get my baby home in one piece.” and a hiccup followed. His head was resting on the backrest and his eyes were closed.

“That makes one of us.” you said, suddenly not feeling very confident in your driving skills.

You managed to get out of the parking lot and follow the GPS you had on.

“Can we play Mario Kart when we get home?” Noah asked.

“I think we should go to bed.”

“That’s boring.”

“We can play tomorrow.”

“But I want to play when we get home.” he said with the attitude of a little kid.

“I didn’t know alcohol brings out your inner child.”

“Kids can’t drink alcohol Ella.”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t too.”

“That’s rude.”

He cut your next answer off with the radio. He turned the volume to a maximum and started dancing in his seat. You reached to turn it down a little before saying “I also didn’t know you love dancing this much.”

“I’m a dancer, can’t you see the moves?”

“Oh my god.” you said with a laugh. Never did you expect to see Noah like this.

—

“This drive was actually like Mario Kart in real life.” Noah stated when you helped him out of the car.

“Shut up, we got home in one piece.” you locked the car and made your way inside the building.

“Keys?” you asked Noah when you reached his apartment.

“You know where they are.” he winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him.

Your hands made their way to his back pockets again, looking for his home keys.

“You’re touching my ass again.” he laughed at his own joke.

—

You finally made it inside, not even bothering to take Noah’s shoes off you took him to his bedroom where he fell into his bed without your help.

You used it as a chance to take the shoes off, one by one when he said “Cuddles?”

He was laying on his front, but his face was sideways, kinda looking at you over his shoulder with a little pout.

“Give me a minute yeah?”

“I want cuddles.”

You threw his shoes on the bedroom floor instead of bringing them to the front door and crawled next to him on the bed.

“Come here you drunk mess.” you said and laid on your back so Noah could lay his head on your chest.

Silence took over the room and you knew Noah would soon fall asleep, so you used the chance to ask him again.

“Do you want to talk about why you got drunk tonight?”

He remained silent, but his movements and breathing got him away that he was still up and heard you.

“You don’t have to, but you never do this so I wa-”

“It's getting close to Christmas.” was his answer that cut you off.

“Yeah, and?” you asked gently.

“It always makes me think about my family.” his words were muffled by your clothes, but you heard him.

“Of memories of how you used to celebrate Christmas?” you asked.

“No. Memories of how fucked up my childhood was.” before you could say anything he continued. “After my parents left me with my grandparents my father came back a few times to celebrate it with us. It always ended with a loud argument and me hiding in my room from all the chaos. When he stopped coming back it was just the three of us. It was calm, but it was fake as fuck. I always saw it on my grandmother’s face how sorry she felt for me. Poor kid without parents. I don’t blame them, they did their best. It wasn’t them who ruined my life.” he scoffed and you saw his father's face when you closed your eyes.

You played with his hair, something to calm him down and to give you something to focus on from stopping you from crying.

“When they died and it was just me, I felt happy for the fucking first time on Christmas. They didn’t have to set up everything for me anymore and spend all their money on gifts for me. I felt free.” his voice cracked at the end and you felt a teardrop on your skin where your t-shirt has ridden up.

“Noah-” you wanted to comfort him, but he didn’t let you.

“Don’t you dare say you’re fucking sorry for me Ella.” so you stayed silent. It was like words were pouring from him for the first time since you met him.

“You know what I always ask myself? Why did it have to be me? What did I do that they didn’t want me? I was barely a three years old when they fucking left me.” a sob left Noah’s throat and his hands gripped the fabric of your t-shirt.

“I remember asking my grandmother when they’ll come back for me, when will I go back home, but they never came back for me.” he took a deep breath before saying more, “And all of those nights I heard my grandmother cry for me. Her last words before she died were “I’m sorry Noah, I’m sorry we couldn’t give you a better life.” and I fucking hate that. It wasn’t her who should’ve given me a better life. It wasn’t her fault that they didn’t want me.”

And he was right. The only people that should be blamed for all of his trauma were his parents. Could you even call them that?

“I don’t know how to talk about this when I’m sober and I just needed to get it out tonight, so I got drunk. I’m sorry I dragged you in it.”

“Don’t say that, I’m glad you wanted me to be the one that takes care of you. I like doing that. I like knowing you’re okay.” you tried to reassure him with every word you spoke.

“But I’m not okay Ella, I’m fucking broken. You shouldn’t be here, you should be somewhere else with someone else who can give you more than me.”

“I’m not gonna let you say that, there’s not a place I’d rather be than here right now with you. Okay?” you felt your own tears running down your cheeks. You didn’t expect this night to end like this. This was the most intimate moment you two shared so far and you wanted Noah to know that he can talk to you about this anytime, even when he’s sober.

Silence took over the darkened room until Noah spoke up again.

“Remember when you did the pregnancy test?” you just hummed in a response, “I was thinking a million thoughts a second, but I knew that if the test would be positive and you’d want to keep it that I’d do it with you. I’d never leave my kid.” he whispered the last part and you had to hold your own sobs. You closed your eyes and let the tears run down your cheeks.

You knew he wasn’t saying that he wants kids with you, or that he loves you or that he wasn’t relieved when the test was negative, he’s just saying that he knows he wants to be better than his parents.

“Noah, you’re nothing like your parents okay? Saying something like this makes you a much better person than they are. You’ve been through a lot, but you made something of yourself. You turned all the bad things into good things. Look at you, having your own apartment, a fucking car and going to college. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met and I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true.” you thought if saying the next thing wasn’t out of line, but you felt like he needed to hear it. “I’m sure your grandparents would be proud of you.”

Noah didn’t give you an answer, he just hid his face in your skin and cried. You cried with him.

His body was shaking from sobbing so hard and you did everything you could to calm him down. You kept rubbing his back and whispering sweet reassurances in his ear, but he wasn’t there with you.

His mind was somewhere else, thinking about all the good times he got to live with his grandparents.

How he helped his grandmother with her garden, laughing at her enormous joy from new plants he got her. He continued with bringing her new plant or flower each time he went to visit their grave, imagining her happy face and how she would hug him and kiss his cheek.

Or when his grandfather took him to see local races. How he was passionate about the cars and pilots who were driving them. How he would love Noah’s car and want to drive it himself. How Noah would buy him his own dream car so he wouldn’t have to drive the old blue small car they had anymore. How he never stepped a foot to another race after he died.

How they attended every single one of his school events even though he told them they didn’t have to. When they got old it was hard for them, but they still came. Every time.

How he had to sell their old house, because he couldn’t even look at it without breaking down. He thought about the box full of things that he kept to remind him of them and how he hasn’t touched it for years. Scared of his own reaction.

They gave him everything they had and made up the mess his parents made. And they didn’t have to. And he felt like he didn’t show them enough how grateful he was for everything and how much they meant to him.

His body was soon tired from the crying and his sobs calmed down. He was starting to fall asleep.

“You have me now Noah, you’ll always have me okay? You’re not alone.” you lifted his head from your chest, his red and tired eyes looking at you with lots of unspoken words.

“Thank you.” he managed to say and you brought him in for a small forehead kiss.

You helped him out of his clothes, leaving him in his white boxers and threw the blanket over his body.

He laid on his side and you sat next to him.

His hand found yours, the grip he had on you begging you to not leave him.

You couldn’t find a single reason why someone would leave Noah behind and didn’t fight for him. How could someone do this to a little child that wanted nothing more than a gentle touch from his parents.

You laid down next to him and watched him fall asleep.

There were no more tears and his breath became steady.

You pushed his brown locks out of his face and then traced his facial features with your fingers.

You ran them over his eyebrows to make the frown go away.

You traced the shape of his nose until you reached his lips. They were slightly open and warm to touch.

His cheeks were still a light shade of pink and you gently caressed his skin there.

His chest was going up and down and the white blanket had slid down to his waist.

You let your fingers slide down to his chest, tracing some of his tattoos. Tracing each word of the desolate tattoo. He was not a desolate. He had you and his friends. They were always joking with each other and making fun of everything, but you know they have his back. He’s not alone in this life anymore.

You left your hand where his heart is, feeling the steady beating of his heart lull you to sleep.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

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[allthingsfangirl101]

In The Past – Ben (Anyone But You)

Ben's POV

I got out of my car and tossed my keys to the valet. I put my hands in my pants pockets and smiled as I looked around at all the familiar faces. I was feeling confident and excited to be at my best friend's sister's wedding.

All of that evaporated when my eyes landed on her.

I instantly knew it was her. I'd know her anywhere. She looked exactly the same. Well, not exactly. She looks even more beautiful all these years later.

"Holy shit," I said under my breath. I didn't notice that I wasn't alone until someone very loudly cleared their throat. I looked over to see Pete smirking at me.

"Y/N looks pretty damn good, huh?" He chuckled.

"She always looks good," I mumbled looking back at her.

"How long has it been since you've seen Y/N?" He asked.

"It's been a while," I answered slowly.

"When was the last time you talked to her?"

"The night before I left," I said before I could stop myself. "Things didn't end well and she never spoke to me again."

"You know," he sighed, "I never understood why, in all the years that the three of us were best friends, you never told her the truth."

"What truth?" I pretended not to know.

"Come on, Ben," he said, actually sounding disappointed. "I know. You know. My sister knows. Hell, everyone knows. The only person here who doesn't know how you feel about Y/N is Y/N."

I looked back at Y/N and watched her hug some other old friends. I couldn't help but wonder what she's been up to all these years. She always talked about wanting to go to art school. I wondered if she ever ignored her family's pressure to go to med school or law school. I wonder if she ever used her art knowledge and became an art curator for a big museum.

"Why didn't you ever tell her, man?"

"It would've messed with our group dynamic," I said the thing I've been telling myself since I walked away from her.

"Bullshit," he scoffed. "If you had talked to me about it, I would've told you that I was okay with it. I would've told you that I support it. If you asked me what you should do right now, I would tell you to get off your ass and finally tell her how much you've always loved her."

Little did he know, that I did tell her the truth.

Once. A long time ago.

I still remember the look in her eyes when I told her I loved her.

~ • ~

"What do you want me to say to that?" She asked, her voice softer than I had expected. I opened and closed my mouth, unable to come up with an answer. "This isn't funny, Ben."

"I'm not trying to be funny," I said slowly. "I mean it. I really do love you, Y/N."

"Please, stop," she said, her voice breaking. "Do you not see how cruel this is, Ben?! You are leaving for school tomorrow. Literally, in nine hours you are getting on a plane and flying far away from here. Away from me. It was horrible of you to tell me you have been in love with me for years the last time I'm going to see you."

"It's not the last time," I stuttered. "I'll come home and visit."

"Right," she scoffed before slightly starting to pace. "You'll come home a couple of weekends during your first semester. Then you'll only come home for the holidays. Pretty soon, those visits won't happen anymore and I'll never see you. And I'll begin to wonder if you actually loved me or if you met someone else and completely forgot about me. Or worse, the longer you are away, the more out of love you fall for me. You'll eventually move on. And me? I'll be heartbroken and won't believe in love anymore. You'll move on and I'll be stuck. Stuck, Ben. I can't handle that. I can't sit back and endure losing you."

"Y/N," I said, grabbing her wrist and stopping her from pacing.

"No," she said, instantly pulling her hand out of my hold. "I can't do this, Ben. I'm sorry, but I can't set myself up just to be heartbroken in a year."

~ • ~

I snapped out of the memory when Pete pushed me toward Y/N. I quickly recovered before weaving my way through the rehearsal dinner guests. As I got closer, Y/N still hadn't noticed me. When I got to her and Pete's cousin, her back was still to me. Pete's cousin saw me and excused herself. Y/N turned around, her eyes slightly widening when she saw me.

"Well, I'll be damned," I teased. "Y/N, you haven't aged a day."

"Ben," she gasped, tightening her shawl around her shoulders. "It's good to see you."

I hated that it sounded like she wasn't sure if she meant that. I hated that it seemed like I made her uncomfortable. I didn't want that. I wanted her to feel comfortable and safe around me. I wanted her to depend on me, to need me. I wanted her and I wanted her to want me.

"It's great to see you," I smiled, trying to reassure her. "I've missed you."

She studied me for a moment before finally whispering, "I've missed you too, Ben."

"Ben! My sister wants to go over the timeline for the wedding tomorrow," Pete yelled across the restaurant.

"In a minute," I shouted back. I turned back around toward Y/N to see the disappointed look in her eyes. "Y/N, I'm. . ."

"I'm sorry, man, but my sister is seconds away from a panic attack."

I opened my mouth to say something but Y/N beat me to it. "Go," she whispered. "You're needed."

She started to walk away but I grabbed her hand and turned her back. "Y/N," I whispered her name, not caring how desperate I sounded. "I hate how we left things. I know this weekend is going to be crazy with the wedding, but I want to fix this. I want to fix us. Please. Promise me you'll sit down with me for ten minutes."

"Ben. . ." She stuttered.

"Five minutes," I changed. "Give me five minutes to try and apologize for breaking your heart. Please, Y/N."

Y/N studied me. The longer she studied me, the harder it was for me to breathe.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Thank you." I let out a sigh of relief. Before I could think about it, I leaned in and gently kissed her cheek.

"I'll be right back, Y/N," I tried to reassure her. "I promise we will talk."

* * * * *

Going through the timeline took longer than I would've liked. The entire time, I couldn't focus on the wedding day schedule. Instead, I thought about Y/N. I thought about our childhood together. I thought about the last time I saw her. I thought about how I felt about her. I thought about what I wanted to say to her.

By the time we were done finalizing things for tomorrow, the guests had all gone back to the hotel. Part of me wanted to do this big romantic gesture and find her hotel room, knock on the door, and confess to her that I still loved her. But another part of me knew that was insane and I should wait to talk to her until after the wedding.

I listened to the first part.

It took some convincing (a.k.a. begging, negotiating, and promising), but eventually Pete's sister, Claudia, finally told me what room Y/N was staying in.

I knocked on the door before I could chicken out. I held my breath as I waited for her to open the door.

"Ben?"

When she opened the door, my heart jumped into my throat. "Hi," was all I could say.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. She checked her watch before adding, "At 11 o'clock at night."

"I was wondering if we could have those five minutes."

"Are you sure? Can't this wait. . ."

"No," I said, cutting her off. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but I've waited too long to talk about this. To talk to you. Please. Just hear me out and, if you don't like what I say, then you can kick me out."

I watched, holding my breath, as I waited for her to decide.

"Five minutes," she whispered. She slowly opened the door and stepped aside. I nervously wiped my hands on my pants and walked into her room.

"What did you want to talk about, Ben?" She asked with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. I walked over and gently grabbed her wrists. I was surprised when she let me unwrap her arms.

"You were right."

"What?" She asked with a small giggle.

"All those years ago," I continued. "I never meant to break your heart, Y/N. That is literally the last thing I want to do. With that being said, I meant what I said that night. I really do love you. And I have loved you for a long time. That's where I was an idiot."

"You were an idiot for being in love with me?" She asked, her voice breaking.

"No," I said quickly. I pulled her closer to me before trying to explain this all better. "I was not an idiot for being in love with you. I'm an idiot for choosing the night before I left for college to tell you. I should've told you how I felt a long time ago."

"That would've been better," she whispered.

"I know," I sighed. "But if you don't hate me too much, maybe we can try this again."

"Try what?" Y/N stuttered.

"Y/N, I am and always have been deeply in love with you," I confessed. "I have loved you since we were young. When I went off to school, all I could think about was you. I never stopped thinking about how much I hurt you, Y/N. And if you give me a chance, I will spend every day of our life together proving it to you. I will never walk away from you again, Y/N. I swear."

Time seemed to stop as I waited for her to say something, anything.

"You'll never walk away from me?" She whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I promise," I said desperately trying to get her to believe me.

"Prove it."

My heart finally left my throat as she smirked at me. I pulled her until her chest was pressed to mine. I studied her face, making sure to never forget her expression before leaning in. Soon, I felt my lips press to hers. As soon as they did, I let go of her hands and wrapped my arms around her waist. She started kissing me back as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

After making out for several minutes, I broke the kiss. I leaned back and studied her.

"Are you done proving it?" She taunted.

"Not even close."

* * * * *

I woke up the next morning to my phone ringing non-stop. I looked down and smiled when I saw Y/N sleepily moan and roll away from me. I quickly sat up and kissed her bare shoulder before answering my phone.

"Hey."

"Where the hell are you?!" Pete yelled as soon as I answered the phone. "Why aren't you in your room? We have pictures in an hour."

"Calm down," I sighed. "I can be ready in ten minutes."

I hung up and turned around to see Y/N sitting up in bed with the covers close to her chest. "You in trouble?"

"Nah," I brushed off. "I can get ready fast."

Y/N smiled when I gently pushed her back down, hovering over her. She wrapped her arms loosely around my neck as I made sure I wasn't hurting her.

"I thought you had to go," she teased.

"Pictures are in an hour," I said, slowly leaning closer to her. "It only takes me ten minutes to get ready. Twenty if I want to shower."

"Which you should," she smirked.

"That still gives me forty minutes to keep my promise," I said as I slowly pressed my lips to hers. She instantly started to kiss me back. But she was the one who broke the kiss.

"You should get going," she sighed, gently pushing on my chest. "Today is Claudia's and Halle's day. Go focus on making this day go as smoothly as it can. Once the wedding is over, you can focus on. . ."

"Us," I finished for her. "After the wedding, I'll focus on us."

[aettuddae]

high garden academy — chapter 94.

⟢ synopsis: a new school year begins at the high garden academy boarding school, bringing with it new students, and among them, the new center of attention for the drama-thirsty student body: the hong sisters. eunchae and her mysterious and unsympathetic older sister, daein, who oddly seem uninterested in the secrets, legends, and gossip of their new school. winter, the institution's top student, and karina, the popular girl and promising pianist, never imagined they would end up so closely involved with hong daein.

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[written chapter]

daein returned to her room dejected, she walked as if something was dragging her, not having the strength, moving because she had to. next to her, jennie carried her from her side with her arms around her waist while the other leaned against her. the prefect opened the door to room 7-A, giving her friend space to pass through first to follow behind her, but as soon as daein entered her she stood still, staring at a fixed point in surprise. jennie went in to find minjeong sitting on the bed looking at them.

"i think i should leave you two alone." spoke jennie to move a little closer to daein to give her a pat on the back, and finally get out of there.

"what are you doing here?" asked the older one after closing the door behind her.

"i heard what happened." she confessed simply.

"how did you find out?" the girl walked over to where the other was.

"everyone finds out about everything in high garden." she explained without giving it much thought. "how are you?"

daein took a seat next to the redhead, her gaze lost in the distance of her room, her eyes were tired, you could see through them how the wave of emotions she had felt had left her exhausted, and they were puffy and red. "i'm not well." she confessed, though it wasn't hard to tell. her cheek was still a slight red after the shock she'd taken earlier.

"i imagine you're not." minjeong settled on the bed so that she was facing the older girl, even though she was still giving her her side. "i don't know what to say to you."

"you don't have to say anything." she put her hand on her leg and gave a few strokes there to reassure her.

"but i feel like i have to." she put her hand over the opposite's. "i hate that that happened to you." she expressed sincerely. "and i hate that i wasn't there to help you."

"it happens often, i'm used to it." hong admitted. "you couldn't have done anything." she assured. "my father is terrifying, and you are..." she looked her up and down. "you're a little princess."

minjeong's cheeks turned scarlet red, her eyes widened and she lowered her head so that the girl wouldn't notice her reaction, though the latter already had. she wasn't used to being called such names, least of all from someone who was usually so uninterested in her words.

"thank you for coming." daein spoke again. "and sorry for worrying you."

"don't apologize." she dismissed. "it's not your fault."

daein nodded her head in agreement and said no more. minjeong, for her part, took a moment to watch her closely. she ran her pupils over daein's eyes affected by the tumultuous feelings she had been feeling, over her hair messy from the frenzy of the situation, over her somewhat bruised cheek from the damage it had suffered, and finally over her lips that were a little swollen possibly because hong had bitten and licked them too much in the face of anxiety or tears that had fallen on them. she found herself unable to tear her stare away from her opponent's lips and found herself fantasizing about them.

now that she had tasted them, she wanted more, even though she shouldn't.

she was so attracted to them that she raised her hand and brought it up to daein's face to run her fingertips gently over them. minjeong knew many things, she was highly intelligent and had studied every subject that came her way, but she still couldn't figure out what it was about hong daein that was so magnetic, what made her want her so desperately.

daein took minjeong's action as a signal and leaned toward the girl ready to connect their lips, and though the redhead closed her eyes waiting for contact she managed to notice before anything happened and opened them again, darting back slightly to avoid anything.

"you can't." she reminded herself. "you're with someone."

"but i want you." daein confessed in a whisper, though there was really nothing to confess. hong's feelings had been out for all to see all this time.

"but then...?" a thread of thoughts and doubts took over minjeong's mind that she had so much to say and reproach the opposite, yet she was so hindered by the way the older's lips glowed a particular pink. "whatever, i will not respect that woman."

minjeong lunged forward placing her hand on the back of daein's neck and the other cupping her cheek with some force to pull her to her, she moved her legs to kneel on them instead of sitting and finally caught daein's mouth with her own in a kiss.

the older one held her by the waist to help her balance on the bed and gave herself completely to the girl, kissing her eagerly and desperately, caressing her back in the meantime. daein decided to copy the girl's position, turning her body so that they were facing each other and thus taking advantage of the new space to hold her even closer. as their lips took the time to get to know and become familiar with each other, hong gently pushed the younger girl so that she lay on her back on the mattress, positioning herself on top of her carefully so as not to break the kiss.

minjeong wrapped her legs around daein's waist and her arms around her neck as she let herself be carried away by the way being kissed by the girl she liked felt so good, and lost in the feel of her touching down the sides of her torso so gently. she hated the moment hong broke the kiss, but that feeling dissipated when they looked at each other and this one had a smile on her face. what was worth gold after the shattered person that arrived earlier in the room.

daein got closer to her and tenderly left a kiss on her forehead. "i shouldn't be doing this." she thought aloud. "but i can't fight you." she left a short kiss on her lips. "i need you."

"i hate to admit it." with her thumb she stroked her nape as her eyes were lost on the other. "because you hurt me so much." daein's smile dissipated. "but i need you too." she admitted.

daein didn't respond, just shook her head showing she was pleased to hear that, and then she caught minjeong in a kiss again, this time more tender and gentle, more carefully, with more feeling.

"why don't you get some sleep?" murmured minjeong breaking away just a little, her lips still touching as she spoke.

"because i'm with you." she clarified, bringing their mouths back together.

"daein." she stopped the kiss again. "you had a hard day." she observed. "i'll stay with you, i promise." she looked at her tenderly.

"really?" she asked, somewhat doubtful in her gaze, she looked helpless.

"really." she assured her.

daein thought about it for a second, but finally straightened up, giving minjeong room for her to move and settle on one side of the bed, leaving the other for hong to lie there. once they were positioned, the younger girl rolled over, lying over her side and hugged daein's arm, then laying her head in the space between her neck and shoulder, closing her eyes and enjoying the girl's company.